


looking for a place to start (everything feels so different now)

by emavee



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Family Bonding, Five is actually thirteen, Five's got a screwed up sense of self-preservation, Fluff, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, against five's wishes, allison and luther are just besties nothing more, and, and he doesn't know about the apocalypse, but he's a dummy who won't let his fam help him, but until then it's all, five is a stubborn little shit, his siblings just want to help him, none of that here, rated mature for some stuff that goes down in later chapters, reggie fucking sucks, the hargreeves come together as a family to babysit, these tags are a mess sorry not sorry, this is totally incest free
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-01-23 03:29:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 56,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18541375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emavee/pseuds/emavee
Summary: Thirteen-year-old Five’s reappearance sixteen years after he ran out the front door may just be what the Hargreeves need to come back together as a family (and inadvertently stop the apocalypse). But the Commission has big plans, and more than a few tricks up their sleeves.Five just wants to figure out his equation and get home, but for some reason, his siblings won’t leave him alone.





	1. November 3rd, 2018

**Author's Note:**

> why why WHY do i feel like i need another wip. why  
> sorry i'm like this
> 
> anyhoo let's go!

_Five pulls on the air around him, the rush of jumping through time even more exhilarating than blinking through space. He's actually doing it! His father didn’t think he was ready, but clearly the old man is a moron. Five can’t wait to rub it in his ugly monocled face._

_He slows his run down to brisk walk, taking more time to turn and take in his surroundings. The buildings are similar in their structure, but many of the storefronts have changed. The sun is beating down, the air much warmer than it had been before he jumped._

_He loves it. He’s actually in the_ future.

_He would have to find something to show his dad, to prove where he had been. None of them will underestimate him ever again—this is just proof that he’s the best of them all, the smartest, the most dedicated to honing his abilities._

_He spots a newspaper box across the street and scurries over to grab one. The date at the top reads July 1st, 2018 and Five grins even wider. Sixteen years in the future—he really did it._

_He tucks the paper under his arm, saving it as a souvenir to show off later, and continues to stroll down the street, taking in all the sights of 2018._

_He’s not far from the mansion, which still looks pretty much the same as it did sixteen years in the past, just a little bit more worn and faded. The umbrella logos still stood proudly, silently looking out into the city._

_Five blips behind the locked gate and then again into the house. It’s dark and silent, but still impeccably neat and tidy. He doesn’t see anyone wandering around and he doesn’t hear any of his siblings chattering, but that doesn’t mean anything. It’s a big house._

_Vanya, first, he decides. She’s the first one he wants to see. He can’t wait to see the look on her face when she sees that he really did it. He thinks she’ll probably be proud._

_She’s probably in her room, he figures. She always did tend to hole herself up in there with her violin, but Five is no stranger to popping in and sitting with her. She probably won’t even be very startled. Briefly, he wonders if he’ll run into his future self; he can’t imagine his life changing so drastically that he wouldn’t be there, with Vanya, quietly supporting each other and enjoying each other’s company._

_He jumps, landing in Vanya’s room with a grin._

_“Van—” Her name dies on his lips as glances around. Not only is the room empty, but it’s different. It’s big and colorful somehow, and Vanya’s room has always been the smallest and the most dull, representative of what dear old dad thought she was worth._

_This is… He looks closer, taking slow steps around the room. This is_ Klaus’s room.

_For a moment, he thinks he somehow jumped into the wrong room, but no. This is bigger than Klaus’s room too. It’s both of their rooms combined, the wall between them knocked down before Klaus took over the whole space. All traces of Vanya have been erased._

_Okay, sure. That’s fine. It_ has _been sixteen years, and Five and Vanya did always whisper about eventually getting out of the house, using Five’s power to time travel to get so far away from Dad that he could never find them. Now that he can time travel, it’s only logical to assume that they must have finally left._

_It’s a bit disappointing, because he did really want to see Vanya, but it isn’t a big deal. He can still go show off to his other siblings. With a renewed grin, he jumps to Ben’s room next._

_Ben’s room, like Vanya’s is empty, but it is at least still Ben’s room. It hasn’t changed a bit._

_That makes Five frown. It really hasn’t changed at all—so much so that it looks virtually untouched. There’s a layer of dust coating every surface and the air smells stale, like disuse._

_Like no one’s used this room in a long time._

_Frowning now, Five checks all his sibling’s rooms, bouncing between them just long enough to see if anyone was there and then moving on when no one was. Every last one of them was empty, the beds neatly made. None of them were quite so disused as Ben’s (or Vanya’s no-longer existent room), but it was still obvious that none of his siblings have been there for a while._

_With one last jump, he lands in the courtyard. There’s no one there either, although he hadn’t really expected there to be. It looks older, even more sad and run-down than it does in 2002._

_And there’s a statue, one that wasn’t there before. Five creeps towards it, head tilted in intrigue. There’s an inscription down at the bottom:_

Ben Hargreeves. May the darkness within you find peace in the light.

_Five takes a stumbling step backwards, looking up at the statue. It’s Ben. It’s Ben’s statue._

_Ben is_ dead.

_Five shakes his head. “No,” he murmurs to himself. “No. No way. Not Ben._ No. _”_

_This can’t happen. He can’t let this happen. He can go back._

_He can stop this._

_With all other thoughts except_ get back home, you have to save Ben _gone from his head, Five tucks the newspaper tightly under his jacket, tightens his hands into fists, and pulls. He’ll go back, show his family, and make sure they know that they have to do something to save Ben._

_He pulls and pulls and pulls, blue energy pulsing and flickering around his hands just to sputter out each time._

_“Shit, shit,_ shit. _”_

_It’s not working._

_He’s stuck._

_He’s stuck here._

_He glances back up at Ben’s statue. Looking into his brother’s face makes his stomach clench. “No,” he whispers. “I have to get back.”_

_A small whine escapes him as he continues to yank frantically at the fabric of time, the effort of it all making him feel achy and fatigued all over as nothing continues to happen._

_He’s stuck. He’s really, truly stuck._

_He’s never felt like this before. He’s never felt so stupid. He’s never felt so_ helpless.

_He can’t breathe. His eyes are stinging and his chest hurts—why does it hurt? What’s wrong with him? Why can’t he get back? It was so easy to get here so why why why is this so difficult?_

_He’s pulled out of his panic by movement out of the corner of his eye, through one of the many windows._

_Dad._

_Five’s blood runs cold and he can’t quite figure out why. He doesn’t even know for sure that’s it’s the old man wandering around inside the house, but he doesn’t care. No way is he going to face the old man right now. He can’t know that Five is stuck. Five doesn’t need him—he’ll get back all on his own._

_He can't know._

_Five blinks away before anyone can spot him._

 

That was four months ago. Four months since his powers failed him. Four months since Five first got trapped in 2018.

Four months since he’s seen his dad or his siblings.

He’s sitting on a park bench, the duffle bag with all of his possessions tucked securely against his side as he scribbles into one of his notebooks, trying to get as many of his ideas down on paper before the sun sinks below the horizon and he's left to creep around in the darkness.

He’d shed his Umbrella Academy uniform that first day in exchange for simple jeans and a dark hoodie. They were stolen from a department store that he jumped into late at night—most of his very few possession were currently stolen—three bottles of water, a box of granola bars, a bag of marshmallows, a jar of peanut butter and a spoon, extra socks and underwear, a couple books on space-time physics, pens and pencils, toothbrush, toothpaste, liquid soap. Honestly, he doesn’t feel very bad about it at all. He takes only what he needs, mostly to ensure that he won’t draw major attention to himself and get caught, but also, none of it matters. Once he goes back in time, everything he does here will get erased. It’s not really stealing if he’s just going to rewind the timeline.

He glances up, realizing how difficult it’s gotten to see his paper now. The park has emptied out except for him, everyone retreating home to sit around a table and eat dinner with their families.

In a few minutes, Five will head towards the library where he spends most nights, snack on something from his reserves, and curl up in the back corner of the stacks. He just has to get this last thought down on paper.

He’s already been here for too long.

Cold wind bites at his face and hands, sharp enough that he’s feeling it through his hoodie. He hadn’t thought to steal an actual jacket when he’d switched out his clothes. It’s November now, much colder than when he arrived in July. He hadn’t anticipated staying this long, but now it’s looking like he might have to make another trip to the department store and find some warmer stuff before winter hits.

And as much as he wants to deny it, it’s beginning to look more and more like he’ll be here for winter.

That thought sort of makes him want to cry out of frustration.

Of course, he’ll never do that. He hasn’t cried since he was four and he broke his arm on a spatial jump gone wrong. He’s stronger than that now; he just has to keep going. He can’t stop until he makes it back home.

His hand cramps around the pencil, half-numb fingers no longer responding the way he wants them to. With a sigh, he snaps the notebook closed and tucks it into his bag. That’s his third notebook—almost full—of the seven he stole. Originally, he’d only grabbed one, but when he initially ran out of room in there, he’d grabbed a bunch more. Seems now like that was the right call.

When he stands up, his legs ache, and he realizes dully that he's spent the entire day unmoving on that bench. He’d been onto something.

With the newest variation of the equation in the forefront of his mind, he tugs on the fabric of time, but his hands barely spark blue and he stays rooted firmly in 2018.

“Damn it,” he hisses to himself. “Shit. Shit. _Shit._ ”

He'd really  _thought_ he'd been onto something. Fuck.

He’s tried it every day. Every. Single. Day. And he just can’t seem to get back. He misses his family so badly that it _aches,_ a dull pain that he carries in his chest, growing every day he’s stuck here away from them.

He knows, realistically, that there are older versions of his siblings wandering around somewhere. He was incredibly tempted to try and seek out Vanya, but quickly decided that that would be a distraction a couldn’t afford.

Besides, he didn’t know this version of his family. As far as he’s concerned, they might as well be strangers. He misses thirteen-year-old Vanya and Ben and Klaus and Diego and Luther and Allison. They’re the ones he needs to get back to.

 

Trying to shove down the overwhelming sense of failure at _once again_ failing to make any headway with his mission to get home, Five creeps down the sidewalk, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. The street lamps are few and a bit far between, but he knows this route well by now. Every night he gravitates towards the library, where it’s warm and feels ever so slightly like he’s sitting back at the Academy library with Vanya and Ben.

There’s not a lot of activity on the street here; Five has learned how to avoid the busy spots—he doesn’t want to be stopped by some adult concerned for his well being. He doesn’t need any help.

A car turns around the corner, headed down the street Five walks beside. He keeps his posture casual and calm, sticking to the shadows. It’s nothing to worry about, just a car.

But then, the car slows down. Way down. Five walks faster, his heart beginning to pound in his chest.

The car pulls over to park against the curb. Five squints through the dim light and watches as the driver exits the car, her eyes trained right on Five.

_Shit._

Unthinking, he jumps, hoping to disappear. He reappears in an alley a few feet away, crouching in the shadows and pressing his back against the cool brick wall.

“Wha—” He hears the woman voice her confusion and smiles smugly to himself, watching her look around for him.

Then, her frown deepens and her brow furrows and she wanders towards the alleyway where Five is hiding.

“Hello?” she calls, and slows to a stop as she spots Five and meets his eyes through the darkness.

She’s tall, with a neatly slicked-back dark ponytail and a worried expression on her face. Hanging around her neck in a badge, shining and gleaming in the nearby streetlamp.  

Shit, she’s a cop. And Five is, for all intents and purposes, a runaway kid. She’s not just going to let him go.

He jumps again, blinking into existence on the far side of a dumpster, landing in a defensive crouch as his head spins dangerously.

That one was pushing at his limit, having tried to jump through time without doing much to take care of himself all day. He’s feeling tired and sluggish, the air too thin for him to breathe, and yet simply moving is like trying to swim through jello. Struggling to keep from being spotted by the cop, he sucks in several empty breaths that are definitely too loud—but he can’t help it.

He’s too busy trying to regain his bearings and suddenly the cop is right in front of him again. How the hell is she doing this?

“Hey,” she says slowly, softly. She crouches down to be more at his level, clearly trying hard to not scare him off, but Five still feels trapped by her presence right in front of him. “It’s okay. I just wanna help you. My name is Detective Patch.”

He has to get away from her, but she’s got him cornered, and for some reason he can’t seem to focus long enough to jump.

But he has to try. Blinking repeatedly to try and clear his head, he clenches his fists, readying himself to pull one last time at the space around him. The sooner he shakes the nosy detective, the sooner he can scarf down a protein bar dinner and pass the hell out. His body is trying to get ahead of that second step.

The detective must figure out what he’s trying to do because her hand shoots out and grabs his wrist before he can blink away again. She freezes suddenly, and Five follows her gaze to his own arm. The sleeve of his sweatshirt has been partially rolled up, the bottom of his tattoo poking out.

“Where did you get this?” the detective asks, pushing Five’s sleeve up higher to expose the rest of the umbrella tattoo.

“It’s none of your business,” he grits out from between clenched teeth. “Let go of me.”

“The Umbrella Academy,” she says softly. There’s a faraway look in her eyes and a confused pinch between her brows.

“Let. Go,” Five repeats. If she realizes he’s from the Umbrella Academy, she’ll try and take him back, and he can’t go back. He can do this without Dad. He’ll just think Five’s stuck here, and he’s _not_. He’s going to figure out this equation, and he certainly does not need his father’s help.

“But you’re so young,” she says. “You should be almost thirty.”

“Maybe because I’m not one of them,” he snarls.

“I saw you… I saw you teleport. You’re one of them.”

“I’m not.”

“You… I need to make a call.”

“No, you don’t. Just… just let me go. I don’t need help. I’m doing just fine. I don’t need anyone—”

She ignores him, already bringing the cell phone to her ear. Five struggles against her grip, but she’s stronger than she looks, and he’s not exactly in peak physical condition at the moment. He’s not even sure he’s eaten at all today, judging by the hollow feeling in his stomach. It’s made him weak and shaky, and he curses himself for stupidly getting too distracted to keep his energy up.

He can’t jump with her latched onto him like this. The feeling of her grip on his wrist burns painfully as he struggles.

“Please,” he says again, resorting to begging, trying to seem like the child he knows she sees him as. She can’t call his dad. He can’t face him until he figures this out. He can’t do it.

Detective Patch watches him out of the corner of her eye, a pained expression on her face, but Five can distantly hear the sound of someone picking up on the other side. He struggles even harder, practically hyperventilating. His vision is blurring and he can’t figure out why. They aren’t tears, because he’s not _afraid_ of his father, he just doesn’t really want to see him right now.

It’s the name that spills out of the detective’s mouth that causes him to still.

“Diego?”

 

* * *

 

_Alert:_

_Potential threat to event: Apocalypse_

 

_Number Five's arrival in the year 2018 on July 7th initially seemed inconsequential, but should he interact with any members of his family (ID: Luther Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves, Allison Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves, and/or Vanya Hargreeves) the Apocalypse plan will be put in jeopardy._

_However, he shows immense potential as a future recruit. For now, he should be left alone. Eventually he may become desperate enough to prove useful to our cause. It remains to be seen, although I certainly do hope so. He could prove to be a most valuable asset if we do things correctly._

 

_Assignment: Keep an eye on the boy. Do not interfere._


	2. November 4th, 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Diego’s brain just skids to a halt because it doesn’t make any sense.
> 
> But when he blinks, and blinks again, his brother’s still there.
> 
> “Five?” he breathes.

Diego didn’t quite know what to expect when Eudora called him, but he’d figured it would be to yell at him for showing up at one of her crime scenes again. After all, he did always have a habit of getting under her skin, and a late-night rant wouldn’t be completely out of the blue for her.

He had not expected for her to demand he come to some random alleyway, but the moment she said the words, _It’s about your family,_ he was stumbling to his car with only one shoe on. He’d immediately assumed the worst, pictured any one of his siblings dead or dying in a ditch somewhere. The most likely candidate would be Klaus, but Vanya also lived alone and walked everywhere, which worried him more than he’d care to admit. Allison wasn’t in town as far as he knew, and Luther wasn’t even on the planet, so it probably wasn’t either one of them, but he didn’t exactly keep up with every last detail of their lives, so who really knows.

The last thing he expected to see was the small, pale face of his missing brother.

Not a lot of things can stun Diego, but the sight of Five, struggling weakly against Patch’s iron grip, is enough to stop him in his tracks and knock the breath out of his lungs.

Five looks thirteen. Somehow, his missing brother still looks thirteen. He’s dirty and exhausted and somehow even smaller than when he disappeared sixteen years before and _he’s still thirteen_.

And Diego’s brain just skids to a halt because it doesn’t make any sense.

But when he blinks, and blinks again, his brother’s still there.

“Five?” he breathes.

Patch is standing in between them, still holding onto Five’s arm—Diego recognizes the way Five’s hands twitch and his feet shuffle slightly, the way he gets when he really wants to jump but can’t. He doesn’t take his eyes off of his brother, scared that he’ll blink and Five will be gone again, but he can feel the confused tension in the air. Patch seems to be frozen, at a loss of what to do. It probably doesn’t help that Diego is just standing there, staring, barely reacting to her questions.

“Are there…” she asks “are there more of them? New recruits or something?”

Diego shakes his head slowly as the words take their sweet time to register. “No. No, h-he’s o-one of the orig-originals.”

She sucks in a sharp breath. “What? How is that possible? Diego, he’s _thirteen_.”

“Yeah,” Diego says dumbly.

Somewhere, distantly way, _way_ in the back of his mind, he knows that Five can hypothetically time travel and maybe this isn’t the craziest thing to ever happen in his ridiculously fucked up life, but none of that really registers now. He feels like he’s dreaming. Or hallucinating.

“Hey, Diego,” Five says. His voice is almost timid, probably the first time he’s ever heard Five be anything other than stubborn and arrogant. Of course, he could be wrong. He hasn’t heard Five’s voice in a while. “Good to see you,” his brother continues, steadily growing more into the overconfident asshole he remembers. “Can you tell your lady cop friend here that I can take care of myself so I can get back to what I was doing?”

Patch blinks. “You know each other.”

“He… he’s my brother,” Diego says.

“How—”

“I don’t know.”

“Obviously,” Five snaps, looking irritated that he has to spell things out for them—but really, this seemed like a valid excuse for Diego’s brain to completely break down if there ever was one—“the old man was wrong. I _can_ time travel.”

“Time travel?” the detective echoes.

Five sticks his chin out, scowling and defiant.

Diego frowns, his eyes raking over Five’s form, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, his slightly shaggy hair, his dirty, rumpled clothing—the first time he’s ever seen him not in uniform.  “Five, h-how long have you been here?”

“Uh, four months, give or take?”

Diego blanches, then feels his face go hot. “What the hell?! Four months? You’ve been here for _four months_ and you didn’t come find any of us? We thought you were _dead_.”

“I’ve been busy,” he hisses, clenching his jaw even tighter. “You would have been a distraction, and I don’t need anyone slowing me down.”

“Busy doing what?” Diego says, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Apparently, Five can annoy and frustrate him just as easily as he could sixteen years before.

Five scowls darkly. “Turns out it’s easier to travel forward in time than back.”

“You’re stuck here?”

“No,” Five snaps immediately. “I just need to figure out the correct equation. I’ve almost got it. And if your damn girlfriend would _let go of me_ , I could get back to work!”

Diego glances around at the dirty alley and spies Five’s duffle bag a few feet away. He’s clearly been living on the street for the months he’s been trapped in this time, with no plans of trying to change that. Five always did have a habit of fixating on one thing and letting it consume him. The idea that his siblings could offer him a roof over his head while he figured this out probably never even occurred to him, not when he had equations to scribble out.

Diego sighs and meets Eudora’s concerned gaze. “Come on, Five,” he says slowly. “You can say at my place.”

Five’s face morphs into something he can’t fully comprehend. He expected him to sneer or scowl, but instead he looks more confused.

“I don’t need your help,” he says, but it’s not nearly as confident as he expects Five to be. Maybe it’s because Diego’s almost thirty now, but Five has never looked younger.  

“I’m not letting you stay out here,” he snaps. “I have an apartment. You can… We can… I’m not letting you live on the street! What the hell?!”

“I don’t need your help!” he repeats, more insistent this time. He growls at Patch suddenly, trying to wrench his arm free from her grip. “Let me go!”

Eudora glances at Diego, looking slightly helpless but still not releasing Five. Slowly, she shakes her head. “I can’t just let you go off on your own,” she says. “You’re a minor. Go with Diego. He can at least give you a roof over your head.”

Diego nods jerkily. “Look, Five, just come with me. You can keep doing whatever the hell you’ve been doing for the four months, just somewhere _safe._ And legal. In fact, you’ll probably have more time to do your thing, since you won’t have to worry about dodging the police and remembering to feed yourself.”

Five still scowls, but Diego can see the gears turning in his head. Sixteen years later and Diego still knows that the best way to get Five to do something is to present it as the most logical solution, one the pragmatic little shit couldn’t help but begrudgingly accept.

“Fine,” he snaps. He wrenches his skinny arm from Eudora’s grip, and this time she lets him go.

Diego reaches out and latches onto his hoodie, even though he’s half sure Five doesn’t have the energy to jump right now. Part of him is surprised to actually feel Five there under his hand, solid and real. It’s not like he’s never had dreams where Five reappeared.

His brother’s back. For real. And he’s thirteen.

Which means Diego has to be a responsible adult. He has to take care of an angry, teleporting teenager. What the hell did he just get himself into?

“I’m not a child,” Five snaps. “Let go of me. I’m not going to run off.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, you idiot! Let me go!” He does, not expecting the visible flood of relief in Five’s features.

Five huffs, rolling back his shoulders, straightening out his sweatshirt, and lifting his chin to face Diego head-on, but still, there’s a tension that’s gone from his shoulders, his expression less pinched, his eyes less wide. He didn’t notice how panicked Five had been until it had disappeared.

He tries to remember if Five ever had any sort of trouble with being restrained. He comes up blank, but that doesn’t mean anything. Five was always a secretive guy. Whatever went on behind the scenes was not something Diego would ever be privy to.

“Come on,” Diego says. “It’s not far to my place.”

Five marches ahead, getting in the car even before Diego. Eudora appears by Diego’s side, her hand resting gently on his shoulder as they both watch the boy pout in the passenger’s seat.

“Do I want to know?” she asks.

“I don’t think I could explain it if I tried.”

She nods, having expected as much. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Sure. Five’s resilient.”

“What about you?”

“I, uh, I guess I’ll have to start by wrapping my head around the fact that he’s actually here. Sixteen years and he can still get on my nerves as if nothing’s changed. I guess he hasn’t.”

Five slumps against the window of his car, staring into space and shovelling a granola bar into his mouth. Diego supposes he’ll need some actual food. And a shower.

Eudora squeezes his shoulder one last time. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

He nods. “Hey, thanks for calling me.”

“Of course. Keep an eye on him, Diego. There’s something else going on with him.”

“I will.”

Of course there’s something else going on with Five, because nothing in his life could ever be simple. Siblings have superpowers. Adopted dad is a manipulative, abusive asshole. Little brothers disappear just to show up again sixteen years later with a boatload of emotional issues and the obsessive need to never fail at anything ever.

He settles into the driver’s seat and puts on the belt, jamming the key into the ignition with probably more force than strictly necessary.

“Was that your girlfriend?” Five asks.

“No,” Diego grumbles. “Don’t get any crumbs in my car.”

“Right, because that would really turn it into a hunk of junk. I’m surprised this thing even runs, Diego.”

“Shut up, Five. Eat your damn granola bar.”

 

The ride is mostly silent, since neither of them have much to say. Diego knows that if he opens his mouth he’s going to snap. He’s pissed off. Five shows up sixteen years in the future and doesn’t think that they deserve to know? They missed him, they looked for him. Hell, most of them _mourned_ him.

It’s selfish and it’s stupid and can’t wrap his head around it. Five should have looked for them. That should have been the first thing he did—the very first thing. Did he not care about them? Did he not think they’d want to see him? Or is it really all just about his fear of failure?

Five had mentioned that they’d be a “distraction,” and just slow him down, but that could just be deflecting. He wishes he were better at reading Five, since the little bastard never wanted to just come out and say what he really meant.

He pulls into the space where he usually parks, getting out of the car and waiting to make sure Five is right with him.

Five doesn’t make any comments about his living space, which is honestly a bit surprising. Even if it was a step up from living on the street, Five was always ready with a sarcastic comment, no matter the situation. He glances down at his much smaller brother to see him slightly pale and swaying on his feet.

The first step is tracking down clothes that will fit Five. Five has always been smaller than most of them, except Ben and Vanya, so he might have to get creative. He manages to locate a pair of basketball shorts that are slightly too small for him buried in the bottom of a drawer. He tosses them along with an old, warn-in sweater on top of Five’s duffle bag and shoves the whole bundle into the kid’s arms.

“Alright, Five. Here, I’ll show you where the shower is. Go ahead and get cleaned up and I’ll make us some dinner.”

Diego’s already eaten, but it’s more likely that the kid will eat if he claims he making it for the both of them. Either it works or Five is just too tired to argue because he simply nods and allows himself to be steered in the direction of the locker room showers.

Diego doesn’t have a ton of groceries at the moment, so scrambled eggs it is. It’s better than granola bars.

Five wanders back in just as he’s finishing up, hair towel-dried and fluffy, his small frame swallowed up by Diego’s clothes. The sweaters hangs slightly off of his shoulders, reaching almost as far as the shorts. He looks so tiny. Diego suppresses a grin.

“Here you go,” he says, setting a plate of eggs down on the table in front of Five.

“Thanks.” Five’s whole demeanor is tired, but he tears into the eggs with renewed energy. He really must have been hungry.

“I have Allison’s number,” Diego says, watching Five shovel eggs into his mouth. “I can call her in the morning, and see if I can’t track down any of the others—”

“No,” Five says, setting down the fork with a loud clang.

“No? Five—”

“I already told you that I didn’t want any distractions.”

“We’re your _family,_ Five!”

“No, you’re _not!_ ”

Diego sinks slowly into his seat, gaping at Five. It feels like all the wind has been knocked out of his chest.

Five at least has the decency to look a little sheepish. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I mean that, this isn’t the family I know. I still have one waiting for me, back in 2002.”

“I get that,” he says. It’s weird seeing Five like this, exactly how he remembers from sixteen years before; he can’t even imagine what it would be like for his whole family to age all that time without him. They would be strangers, in a way. “But Five, they’ll want to know you’re okay. You just disappeared on us one day. We had no idea what happened to you. We missed you. We... we thought you might be dead.”

Five stares at his plate, suddenly very interested in the half-eaten eggs. He scowls down at them like they personally insulted him. “Yeah, well, once I can figure out how to get back, it’ll be like I never left. No one will have to miss me, because I’ll be right there with you. And if I meet up with everyone else, it’ll just take me even longer to get back to all of you.”

Diego can tell there’s more to it than that. If he calls anyone, if he tries to get the _whole_ family together—there’s no way their dad wouldn’t find out too.

For the past sixteen years, there’s always been a piece of Diego that was not only mad at Five for running away, but actually _jealous._ Five got out. He got out of that house and out from under Reginald Hargreeves’ horrible, abusive thumb. And the rest of them had been stuck there.

There were nights, after difficult missions and private training sessions or twisting and turning awake in bed with the lingering feeling of the sting on his cheek and the burning fear and anger and shame behind his eyes, when he had gotten so mad at his missing brother for doing what none of the rest of them could. Why couldn’t he have taken the rest of them with him? Why couldn’t Diego have gotten out sooner?

God, it had been so ridiculous. They had no idea what happened to Five, and no reason to think that he was living large somewhere out there—a million terrible things could have been happening to Five and there were still moments where Diego wasn’t anything but envious.

He knows what it’s like to live with Reginald Hargreeves. He understands the desperation.

Five doesn’t want Dad to know he’s here. He doesn’t want Dad to know he’s stuck. That’s failure, and Five’s always been the one most afraid to fail. It’s a dangerous thing to do, failing Reginald Hargreeves, especially after disobeying him. It wouldn’t mean anything good for Five, even if the old bastard could find some way to help Five get back to 2002.

The rest of them are adults; Dad can’t hurt them anymore, not directly at least, although Diego isn’t sure any of them will ever truly be free from his influence.

But Five is still just a kid. An actual kid. He’s thirteen and still so vulnerable. So no, there won’t be any family reunions just yet, not while that's a risk. He can’t do that to Five. He won’t put him in that danger.

“Yeah, alright. If I… If I promise not to call anyone, will you promise to stay here while you work?

Five nods. “Deal.”

Diego taps the table next to the plate, urging Five to eat the rest of his food. Five scowls, but complies without another word.

 

“You should get some sleep,” Diego says. Five has rooted himself firmly in the chair, his notebook propped up on his knees.

“Not tired,” Five shoots back, then promptly yawns loudly.

Diego raises an eyebrow. “You sure about that? You looked dead on your feet earlier.”

“I’m fine. Good thing about being indoors is, you have light,” Five says, waving an absent hand at the lamp. “I can keep working.”

“It’s late.”

“So go to sleep. Don’t worry about me, Diego. I can take care of myself.”

“Fine. Whatever.” It’s not like Five has anywhere to be in the morning. He can sleep in until noon for all Diego cares. That’s what normal teenagers do, right?

He lets him do his thing. When Five gets like this, there’s no talking him out of it.

Diego keeps glancing back and forth between the phone and his brother. He could call someone. He _should_ call someone, screw his promise. The kid doesn’t know what he’d put them through when he disappeared.

He wouldn’t call Dad—he would never do that to the kid—but their siblings, they deserve to know, regardless of what Five thinks.

Luther is… out of town. Allison’s off being a movie star, but he has her number lying around somewhere. Klaus would be too difficult to track down, even though he could probably benefit the most from seeing their missing brother definitively not dead.

Ben and Vanya however—they were Five’s closest relationships as kids, his best friends. Ben is—God, does Five even know about Ben? Diego swallows thickly, trying not to think about it. It still aches, every time he thinks about Ben.

Vanya though, she’s still around. She’s even in the city.

But Five must know that. Logically, she should have been the first person Five sought out, if he wasn’t so busy being his arrogant, stubborn self. If he didn’t go looking for her, maybe he didn’t want to see her. He finds that doubtful, but it’s not like he can even call up Vanya if he wants to. He threw out her contact information as soon as the book dropped. She hated their family so much, wanted to say all that shit about them—fine. She got her wish. As far as Diego is concerned, she’s not a part of his family anymore.

Five would probably see differently, since she was always his favorite. He was her favorite too, seeing as she didn’t have much of a bad word to say about him in her book, just that he was a precocious little shit whose disappearance left a hole in her life.

She would want to see him.

He pushes the thought away. He’s not going looking for Vanya. He doesn’t care about her.

(He doesn’t care about the nights he heard Vanya sobbing, back when they were thirteen and still grasping at the slowly shrinking hope that Five would return to them. He doesn’t care about the lights she turned on, the sandwiches she left out, so desperate for Five to come back and determined to convince him to stay in their lives. He doesn’t care about the way his own tears burned behind his eyes the night he watched Vanya sneak downstairs one night only to put the peanut butter back and turn off the light as even she gave up hope—the last one to go. He doesn’t care that he was there that night, when she sobbed on the stairs, held awkwardly in his arms as they grieved for their brother. He doesn’t care that Vanya loved Five more than anyone, and would probably give anything to see him again.)

He doesn’t care because she doesn’t care, not about the rest of them.

That’s what he tells himself, at least.

Ugh, fine. He’ll triple check with Five in the morning. Then maybe he’ll stop feeling so guilty about harboring their long-lost brother.

Diego gazes over at his little brother. Five had fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of all his obsessive scribbling, the notebook and pen slipped out of his grip and dropped onto the floor. Contrary to his argument that he could keep working, it didn’t take long at all for him to nod off. The kid’s curled up in the chair, his knees tucked into his chest, his head lolled sideways against the wall. He’s snoring softly in his typical Five way—short, sudden exhales, the rhythm regular and steady in his sleep. Even asleep, his expression is pinched and stressed, like the Five he remembers so often was.

Diego sighs and stands up with a stretch. Making sure to stay slow and quiet so as not to wake his sleeping brother, he creeps across the room to Five before leaning down to scoop his brother up. He’s small, even for a thirteen-year-old, which is simultaneously a relief for Diego’s back at the moment and a concern considering the fact that he’s pretty sure Five’s been living off of stolen protein bars for the past four months and neglecting to actually take care of himself.

Five squirms slightly in his arms and Diego goes still, watching to see if the kid would wake up. He doesn’t, just curls slightly closer to Diego’s chest, quietly muttering a short string of gibberish.

He carries the kid over to his bed and stares down at it, realizing that he didn’t really think this through. The bed is still made up neatly and Diego has no way to pull the covers back with Five snuggled up in his arms.

“It’s still better than the chair, I guess,” he grumbles, depositing Five on the bed on top of the comforter.

Five settles in immediately, tucking his knees up towards his chest and gathering the comforter up in his fist, still firmly asleep. Diego has an extra blanket lying around here somewhere, but decides to keep it for himself. He’s already giving up his bed. Five had better be grateful as it is.

“Little shit,” he grumbles, looking over his brother one last time. “Why couldn’t you just ask for help, huh? You just have to make everything difficult, don’t you.”

He sighs. Well, Five hasn’t changed a bit. It’s kind of comforting.

Mostly irritating.

 

* * *

 

_Alert:_

_Potential threat to event: Apocalypse_

 

_Plans must be changed. Number Five has reconnected with this time’s Diego Hargreeves. If he bonds with his brother, it is only a matter of time before he begins to seek out other members of his family. Number Five cannot be allowed to reconnect with Vanya Hargreeves on his own terms. The entire Hargreeves family must be brought together, and there’s only one way to do that._

 

_Assignment: Eliminate Reginald Hargreeves._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick update to get the ball rolling :) 
> 
> Sorry, Five, but the rest of the siblings will be making an appearance next chapter


	3. November 6th, 2018, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can’t believe I let you drag me here,” Five says, for the eighteenth time.
> 
> “I can’t believe you actually thought you were gonna get out of this thing.” Diego steps out of the car first and stares down at Five. “Come on, let’s just get this over with.”

“Dad’s dead.”

“Huh?” Five glances up from his notebook, when Diego slams the door shut behind him. He’s sitting criss-cross on the bed, a brand-new notebook balanced in his lap, exactly where Diego left him that morning when he went to work, the second day in a row he’s spent sat on the bed, scribbling away and mumbling to himself. Even now, the pen in his hand keeps moving as he tears his eyes from the page. 

“Dad,” Diego repeats. “He’s dead. Saw it on the news.”

“Oh. Huh.”

“There’s gonna be a funeral.”

Five turns back to his equations. “Have a good time.” Diego stomps over and snatches the notebook from his hands, the pen sliding across the page. “Hey!”

“Oh no, kiddo. If I have to go, so do you.”

“My version of Dad isn’t even dead,” Five says, folding his arms over his chest and scowling up at his brother in a manner that he hopes is scary enough to get him to back off. No way is he wasting time going to a funeral for the old man.

“Too bad.” He glances down at Five, his frown growing. “You’re going to have to look a little more presentable than that.”

“I’m not going!”

 

“This is stupid. I’m not doing this.” 

He’s sitting in a chair in front of Diego’s sink, a towel wrapped around his shoulders, hair dripping water into his eyes.

“You can’t go to the funeral looking like a little dirt gremlin,” Diego snaps. Five watches him pick up the scissors out of the corner of his eye and squirms uncomfortably. They’re office scissors, which Five is pretty sure are not the correct instruments for cutting hair. At least, they’re not what Mom uses.

“I’m not going to the funeral at all.”

“Yes, you are. Come on, Five. Dad’s dead. Now you can see the rest of the family without worrying about him finding out you’re stuck here.”

“I wasn’t worried about that. And I’m not stuck!”

“Uh huh.”

He folds his arms over his chest. “I still don’t see why you have to cut my hair. I feel like a baby. I’m not a child, Diego.”

“Because you look like you’ve been living on the streets for months—”

“I  _ have _ been living on the streets for months—”

“Just let it happen, Five. You can have your notebook back when I’m done.”

“Do you even know how to do this?”

“Sure. I cut my own hair sometimes, and I have vague memories of watching Mom cut Luther’s. How hard could it be to do yours?”

“That’s not very—Diego!” He cringes at the sound of the first snip, hair falling down his face and tickling his nose.

“Whoops. Now you have to let me.” He can practically hear the cheeky grin in his brother’s voice.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

 

Five doesn’t really have the correct apparel for a funeral, but then again neither does Diego. His brother doesn’t care what he wears, so long as it’s clean. Thank god. Five isn’t sure he could have handled anymore babying.

And at least the haircut isn’t totally abysmal. 

He knows black is the appropriate color for a funeral, but to be honest, Five doesn’t give a single flying fuck about the old man, so he’s wearing his freshly-washed jeans and his green hoodie. It’s the comfiest one he has, and the warmest. If Diego is going to make him go out in the cold and stand through some ridiculous ceremony, he’s at least going to be comfortable while he does it.

Diego only gets him into the car by promising to make and deliver peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches to Five every four hours. It’s a solid deal, considering the time and distraction it would save Five, and the fact that Diego abhors his tastes. He’d much rather Five eat protein and veggies like a normal, healthy human being, but peanut butter and marshmallows are  _ actual _ brain food.

Diego pulls up across the street from the Academy and they both stare up at its facade. It shouldn’t be intimidating, considering the fact that it’s Five’s home and his dad isn’t even alive to ruin it anymore, but something in his stomach flutters and churns. Too much has changed here; even though it mostly still looks the same on the outside, so much is still unrecognizable. Vanya’s room is gone, Ben is dead, the whole place has been abandoned. It’s so, so different from the one he lived in four months ago.

And part of him is nervous about seeing this version of his siblings. He doesn’t know them, and that makes him squirm. He used to know everything about them—how Luther organized his records, Ben’s favorite books and all the characters he cherished, when Diego needed a little extra patience and when he was looking for a fight, Vanya’s dreams of living in a little cottage and visiting all the places Dad would never let her see. He hates that his siblings are strangers to him now. 

“Here we go, I guess,” Diego mumbles. 

“I can’t believe I let you drag me here,” Five says, for the eighteenth time. 

“I can’t believe you actually thought you were gonna get out of this thing.” Diego steps out of the car first and stares down at Five. “Come on, let’s just get this over with.”

Five scowls, but jumps, reappearing right beside his brother. Diego startles at it—just another sign that things have changed too much.

“Would it kill you to just walk like a normal person?”

Five stares pointedly at the knives decorating his brother’s outfit, at a  _ funeral, _ no less. “And why do you need those exactly?”

“Shut up, Five,” he huffs. “Alright. Let’s go do this.”

“You seem stressed.”

“Well, yeah. I’m a little worried the others are going to learn I’ve been harboring you the past few days and then they’re going to try and kill me for keeping it a secret. You’re putting me in danger here, bud.”

“Another use for the knives, then.”

“Very true. I just might have to use them on Allison if she goes into angry-mom mode.”

“Wait, Allison’s a mom? She has a kid?” He pauses, then makes another startling realization. “I’m an uncle?”

“Yep. See what you miss out on when you hide out in a boiler room all day? Be careful, there’s a good chance she’ll try and angrily mother you to death.”

Five wrinkles his nose. He does  _ not _ want that at all. “Give me a knife.”

Diego laughs sharply. “Not a chance in hell, man.”

“Fuck you,” Five pouts. That just makes Diego laugh harder.

The moment they set foot in the door, Diego takes off, on his own mission.

“Where are you going?” Five asks, watching Diego head towards the main stairs.

“I’m going to check out Dad’s room. You can come or not but  _ do not _ do anything stupid. And don’t even fucking think about blinking out of here.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Five rolls his eyes at his brother’s retreating back. “You’ve got cop friends to track me down—I get it. You don’t need to threaten me every time you leave the room.”

Diego flips him off, which doesn’t feel like an appropriate response to a thirteen-year-old, but it makes Five grin.

He wanders around the first floor of his home for the first time in months. When he’d popped in a few months ago, back when he first arrived in 2018, he hadn’t gotten a very good look at this part of the mansion. Like his siblings’ rooms, it hasn’t changed all that much, kept immaculately clean, probably by Mom. 

He freezes suddenly, stepping into the living room. There’s a portrait up on the wall, the creepiest portrait he’s ever seen—a portrait of him. It’s terrible and lifeless and makes him look cold and uncaring. He immediately hates it. 

Is this… is this how his family sees him? He shakes his head quickly. No, he knows his father better than that. This is not something to honor him, to remember him after his disappearance. It’s a warning for his siblings, to make sure they don’t challenge the old man like he did. And they can’t empathize with his disappearance if he’s to be a warning.

He glares at the ugly thing. Stupid Dad, using him as a pawn in his manipulations.

“Master Five?”

Five whirls around at the sound, coming face-to-face with a very surprised-looking Pogo.

“Oh. Hey, Pogo,” he says, waving awkwardly. 

Pogo steps forward towards him, confusion painted all across his face. He blinks several times, like he can’t quite believe his eyes. Five supposes that’s a reasonable reaction.

“You… You’re here. Am I correct to assume that you managed to travel through time like you’d hoped?”

Five nods. “Sure did. Jumped sixteen years into the future.”

“Well, I can see that. Congratulations, I suppose?”

Five chews his lip, debating. Pogo isn’t Dad. He likes Pogo. He doesn’t trust him really, because his loyalties lie first and foremost with Reginald, but Pogo has always seemed to care about them. And maybe he knows something that can help Five with his equation. At this point he’s got to face the reality that it could take him years to get back working all alone. 

Pogo isn’t Dad. So maybe… maybe it’s okay to tell him. Five won’t come out directly and ask for help—he’s not that desperate—but if Pogo happens to offer, well, Five would be an idiot not to listen, right?

“It’s—” 

“Five?” He turns toward the sound to see a tall woman with dark skin and curly hair. He can only assume this is 2018 Allison. Happiness flutters in his stomach at the sight of her and he tries to push it away; he can’t afford to get attached. “Wha—Is that really you? How are you here?”

She rushes towards him, immediately grabbing his shoulders. The moment she realizes that he’s really there, one hand comes up to caress his cheek, turning his face slightly as if searching for some nonexistent injury.

“Time travel,” he says as way of explanation. Diego was right, she really is jumping straight into the mothering.

“I—” Allison chews her lip, looking confused and overwhelmed as she brushes hair back from Five’s forehead. He kind of wishes she would stop, but before he can reel back at all, she suddenly pulls him to her chest, hugging him tightly. “I can’t believe it,” she breathes. “You’re alive. You’re here.” She pulls back, looking down at him. She didn’t used to be this much taller than him; that irks him. “Who else knows you’re here?”

“Just Diego.”

“Diego?” She looks around. “Where is he?”

Five shrugs. “Going to check out Dad’s room, I think. He sort of ran off as soon as we got here.”

“Why were you with—Nevermind. That can wait. Let’s go look for the others. I think Klaus and Luther are here. They’ll want to see you. I… I can’t believe you’re back.”

His sister grabs his wrist, tugging him behind her as she leads them up the stairs to go searching for his other adult siblings. He should have stuck with Diego; having to deal with this reaction from each of his siblings individually is going to get tiring.

Actually, he should have just figured out a way to not even come to this stupid thing. So far he’s only interacted with Diego and Allison, and a tiny, stupid, sentimental piece of him is practically giddy at the sight of them. Damn Diego’s detective girlfriend and her misplaced concern. This is exactly what Five had hoped to avoid, and it’s just going to get worse from here.

They march up the stairs, Allison seemingly having picked up on someone she can track down. As they get closer, Five can hear some commotion and a person seemingly talking to no one. He doesn’t recognize the voice, but Luther doesn’t really seem like the type to talk to himself, so Five has to assume it’s probably Klaus. 

They catch him in Dad’s study, rifling through the dead man’s desk and grumbling about cash. 

“Klaus?” Allison calls, stepping into the room. She lets go of Five’s wrist when he hesitates at the door, hesitant to step inside.

A thin, lanky man with curly hair and smudged eye makeup pops out from behind the desk, and yeah, that’s definitely Klaus. 

“Hey, Al!”  He grins, acting innocent and immediately going to give her a hug. “My favorite movie star—” 

Klaus stiffens suddenly, his arms still wrapped around Allison, and his gaze lands on Five for the first time. 

“Klaus?” Allison asks.

“Do you, uh, see little Number Five or is that just me?” All the color has drained from his face.

Allison pulls away suddenly, putting her hand on Klaus’s shoulder and guiding him nearer to Five, who tries to smile and look as alive as possible.

“No, no, no,” Allison says hastily. “It’s really him.”

“Hey, Klaus,” Five says, unsure of what to do in this situation. 

Just like Allison, Klaus pulls him into a tight hug, wrapping his bony arms around Five and resting his chin on his head. He pulls back, holding him by the shoulders and looking him over once before yanking him back in. “How are you here?”

“Time travel,” Five says, his voice muffled slightly against Klaus’s chest. “Told you idiots I could do it.”

“What are you guys doing in Dad’s—Five?”

Klaus does not let go of him at Luther’s appearance, so Five has to squirm and push at him in order to swivel around enough to see his other brother.

“Yeah!” Klaus says. “The little guy’s here! And he can time travel.”

“Let go of me,” Five snaps, shoving at Klaus’s chest until he relents.

Luther steps forward, setting a giant hand—and wow, Luther got  _ huge _ in the past sixteen years—on Five’s shoulder, looking just as shocked as the others had been. What’s really surprising though is the fact that Luther  _ also _ pulls Five into a hug, although his is much shorter than Allison’s or Klaus’s. Five and Luther have always butted heads; Luther never approved of Five’s attitude and disrespect, so it’s weird to see him act concerned and affectionate. It’s actually very disorienting, all these differences, and he hates not understanding everything that’s going on.

Luther looks over Five’s head to Allison, so at least  _ that _ hasn’t changed. “Did he just, like, appear here?”

“No, apparently he came with Diego.”

Luther’s face darkens. “Five, why were you with Diego?”

Five shrugs. “I’ve been staying with him.”

“You what?” Allison rounds on him angrily, her voice shrill. “For how long?”

“Where the hell is Diego?” Luther growls, turning and marching out of the room to hunt their brother down.

Five should say something, tell them that Diego was just doing what he asked, but honestly? His siblings’ bickering is familiar enough to be a comfort. 

They end up in the living room, Five sitting on the couch, Klaus and Allison staring down at him like he might disappear again, Luther pacing behind them.

“Oh, good,” Diego says, appearing with Mom on his arm. “You all found Five yourselves.”

“Yeah, what the hell, Diego?” Allison snaps. “Why wouldn’t you call anyone?”

“We deserved to know,” Luther agrees, because of course he does.

Diego throws his hands in the air. “He didn’t want me to! Said it would be a ‘distraction’ or whatever.”

“And you listened to him  _ why? _ ” Allison’s voice is angry and verging on dangerous. Five feels a little bit bad for Diego, but also the argument is pretty entertaining.

“I had to promise him something! It was the only way I could get him to even come stay with me!”

“Wait, where was he staying before?” Allison turns to Five for the first time since the argument really got going. “Five?”

Five keeps his mouth shut. No way in hell is he going to tell them what his original plan was. Diego’s nagging is bad enough.

“I got a call from a friend of mine on the force,” Diego says. “Picked him up in an alley downtown. At night.”

“What?” They all turn to yell at him as a collective while Diego stands back looking smug.

“What the hell—”

“Five, are you—”

“You didn’t think to—”

“—ridiculous!”

“What’s wrong with—”

“—even  _ think _ about other people?”

“Why on earth—”

“Hey, what’s going on?” They all stop look up at the new voice, Five turning all the way around to face it. 

It takes him a moment to recognize her—the lack of bangs is really throwing him off. But the moment it sinks in, he can’t help but light up.

“Vanya!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes while I'm writing this thing I think I'm getting too fluffy for the Hargreeves, but then i decide that i don't really care. Five is thirteen and they all missed him a lot!


	4. November 6th, 2018, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey,” she says, but none of them hear her. “Hey,” she tries again, raising her voice some. “What’s going on?”
> 
> The arguing ceases suddenly, all eyes on her. The person on the couch twists around and Vanya’s breath hitches and falters.
> 
> “Vanya!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apparently have no sense of an update schedule. enjoy!

Vanya steps through the front door of her childhood home, immediately feeling small and insignificant. God, she feels thirteen all over again, just looking at these walls.

“Hello?” she calls, simultaneously hoping her siblings are already here and dreading seeing them.

She doesn’t get a response, but she does pick up on the distant sounds of yelling. Yeah, that feels like home alright.

Vanya follows the sounds to the living room. She can’t even make out what they’re arguing about with all their voices overlapping.

She steps into the doorway, confused to see all her siblings standing around, shouting down at a figure sitting on the couch. She can only see the back of a head—nothing more than dark hair.

“Hey,” she says, but none of them hear her. “Hey,” she tries again, raising her voice some. “What’s going on?”

The arguing ceases suddenly, all eyes on her. The person on the couch twists around and Vanya’s breath hitches and falters.

“Vanya!”

 _Five,_ her missing brother, jumps, appearing right in front of her. Vanya feels lightheaded, like she’s seeing a ghost. She looks around Five’s head to the others, none of whom look surprised, just varying degrees of angry and frustrated. She really, really wishes someone would start explaining _what the hell is going on._

She’s not sure who leans into the hug first, her or Five, but she does know that the moment her arms are wrapped around someone _solid,_ she squeezes so tightly that she’s worried for Five’s ribs. She also can't restrain herself enough to care.

“Five,” she breathes, her chin on his shoulder. “Wha—How?”

“Time travel,” Diego supplies, when Five doesn’t respond right away. “When he left back in 2002, he jumped here, in 2018.”

“Oh,” Vanya says, feeling numb. She squeezes the fabric of Five’s sweatshirt between her fingers, needing it’s solidity to steady her.

“Diego knew and didn’t tell any of us,” Luther adds.

Five pulls back from Vanya’s grip, looking over his shoulder to scowl at Luther. With the lack of physical contact, Vanya’s fingers twitch to cling to his sleeve like a child.

Diego snarls at Luther. “I already told you why I didn’t tell you. It’s the little brat’s fault, not mine!”

“He’s thirteen, Diego,” Allison says, frowning. “You’re the adult. It boils down to your bad decision-making.”

“My bad decision-making? Maybe it’s been too long since either of you had to deal with Five. He’s a stubborn asshole!”

“And you’re an adult with a phone and four other siblings who deserved to know!”

“And how exactly was I supposed to call up Luther on the moon, huh? And would have even answered, Allison? Or where you too busy trying to forget all about us?!”

“You shouldn’t have kept this to yourself, Diego,” Luther snarls. “You don’t get to make decisions for the whole team. You don’t get to decide what we know and don’t know!”

“Even if you hadn’t been shipped all the way off the fucking planet,” Diego hisses, jabbing a finger at Luther, “Five still wouldn’t have sought you out.”

Five rolls his eyes and shoots Vanya an exasperated look like, _can you believe they’re like this?_ He’s just so casual about all of this and she’s struggling to process. Everything feels like it's moving in slow motion.

Five is here. Somehow. He’s back, sixteen years late, but he’s back. And he hasn’t changed a bit.

But Vanya has, and she just, doesn’t know what to do here.

“I, uh—” The others don’t pay her a lick of attention, but Five does, eyes widening to show he’s listening. Wow, she’s missed having someone look at her like that, like she’s anything other than invisible and useless. A tiny spark of confidence flutters in her chest. “I’m going to make a snack. Want to join me?”

The others don’t even seem to notice she’s said a word, but Five nods and jumps to her side, slipping out from the middle of the argument about him—that’s how ridiculously quick-tempered and self-absorbed their family is.

Five and Vanya walk shoulder to shoulder in silence to the kitchen.

Vanya immediately pulls out the achingly familiar sandwich ingredients, getting to work spreading the peanut butter and tearing open the bag of mini marshmallows. She hasn’t made one of these in probably more than fourteen years, and she’s transported back to being thirteen and sneaking around to leave out snacks for her missing brother, her heart aching and desperate.

Now, Five is actually here, sitting up on the counter and watching her. Vanya bites the inside of her cheek, just to make sure she’s not dreaming.

Unable to really speak she’s so stunned and overwhelmed, Vanya silently passes the sandwich to Five, who accepts with a nod and a smile. He digs in while Vanya spreads peanut butter for her own sandwich, leaving the marshmallows off of hers.

“You’re way better at making these, Van,” Five says around giant bites of his sandwich. “Diego _sucks_ at it.”

“Right… So, you’ve been staying with Diego?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, but only for a couple days.”

“Oh. Why—why didn’t you come find me?” Why did he go to Diego of all people? Why not the Academy? Why not Vanya?

Five looks away, chewing on his lip, and shrugs. “I didn’t want to be distracted. I thought about it though.”

“Distracted from what?”

He sighs, staring down at his hands, his fingers twitching in and out of a fist. “I need to figure out the right equation to get back home.”

“You’re stuck here?” she asks gently, trying to make sure he doesn’t take it as an attack.

Five purses his lips, then nods. “For now. But, I’m going to figure it out. I’m going to make it back.”

"I'm sure you will. I... I missed you."

Five winces almost imperceptibly, although Vanya catches it. "'M sorry," he mumbles.

She reaches over, grabbing his hand. "Don't be sorry. It's—it's okay. You're here now. And you're trying your best to fix it."

"I'll make it back," he says, almost more to reassure himself than her. "I'll make it back and you'll never have to miss me."

She nods, unsure of what to say next. Five looks over and smiles at her, his face soft and slightly sad. He squeezes her hand hand once before pulling away.

Suddenly, Diego storms into the kitchen, closely followed by Luther and Allison, with Klaus trailing slightly behind and looking thoroughly entertained. Steam might as well have been coming out of Diego’s ears, and both Allison and Luther’s cheeks were flushed in anger.

“Five!” Diego stomps right up to him and Five raises a single eyebrow, looking completely unbothered. “Tell them that you made me promise not to call them. Tell them that you were going to run away again if I tried to tell anyone!”

“It doesn’t matter what you promised him, Diego!” Allison says. “You made this decision, as the _adult._ ”

“I did what I had to do. I made the best of the situation! Would you rather him go back to living on the street?”

“Wait, what?” Vanya asks. Five is the only one who acknowledges her, and he just shrugs.

“No!” Allison reels back. “Of course not! But you could have figured _something_ out.”

“And what would you have done, huh?” Diego turns to look at the rest of their family. “What would any of you have done?”

Vanya’s not sure what she would have done if Five had come to her, but honestly she probably wouldn’t have called anyone, not unless Five had wanted her to. It’s selfish, she knows that, but she likes the idea of her and Five against the world, just like when they were both kids, back when Five was the only one who noticed her, the only one who made time for her. She’s missed that, desperately, and the idea of having it back, even sixteen years late, even with Five working frantically just to leave again, getting back her best friend would make everything worth it.

Luther opens his mouth to speak, and both Diego and Five seem to know that something ridiculously stupid is about to come out of his mouth—even Klaus leans forward, eyes twinkling. “Well, I—”

Five rolls his eyes and decides it’s time to cut in. “Diego, didn’t you drag me all the way here for a funeral? When are we actually going to get that over with, huh?”

 

* * *

 

As they head outside for the funeral, Allison ambushes Five by wrapping a jacket around his shoulders. It’s dark and thick and a bit too long for Five, but it’s warm, and Five will certainly be glad for it the moment the November air hits him. Still, Five scowls and jumps away from Allison’s mother-henning.

“Stop it! I’m _fine,_ Allison,” he snaps, even as he zips the thing up.

“Alright, alright.” She puts her hands up in surrender, then contradicts that surrender by shoving an umbrella into his arms to protect him from the steady rain.

They file into the courtyard, Luther in the middle, holding the urn with their father’s ashes.

Five accidentally glances at Ben’s statue and represses the shudder that tears up his spine. Just the sight of it—the reminder of what will happen to his brother if he doesn’t get back—hits him with a sharp stab of panic. He swallows it down and tries to turn his attention back to Luther.

He stands between Klaus and Vanya, trying to keep in the mindset that these are actually his siblings. It’s difficult, with them being so tall and old and unfamiliar, although it does make his job of not getting too comfortable easier. Some things aren’t so different, though, like the way Diego rejects using an umbrella just to get soaked, probably for the angsty, brooding, tough-guy image he tries so hard to cultivate. And Vanya’s still the same height she was when he left.

“Did something happen?” Mom asks, looking around with her ever-present smile. Five’s chest constricts. He’s never relied very heavily on Mom, not like some of his other siblings, mostly because he knows so much of her comes from Reginald, but it hurts to see her confused, her circuitry probably deteriorating.

“Dad died,” Allison says, frowning. “Remember?”

“Oh. Yes, of course.”

“Is Mom okay?”

“Yeah,” Diego says, always a momma’s boy. “Yeah, she’s fine. She just needs to rest. You know, recharge.”

Pogo then joins them, speaking to Luther. “Whenever you’re ready, dear boy.” Not that this towering version of Luther is much of a _boy_ at all.

Luther pulls of the lid of the urn, tipping it upside down and dumping the ashes out. They fall into a clump on the ground, incredibly anticlimactic. They all stare at it for a moment.

“Probably would have been better with some wind,” Luther mutters.

“Does anyone wish to speak?” Pogo asks, choosing to push forward. No one speaks up, which isn’t overly surprising, so Pogo takes it upon himself. “Very well. In all regards, Sir Reginald Hargreeves made me what I am today. For that alone, I shall forever be in his debt. He was my master, and my friend. And I shall miss him very much. He leaves behind a complicated legacy—”

“He was a _monster,_ ” Diego cuts in. Klaus wheezes with sudden laughter, and the corners of Five’s mouth turn up in a grin. “He was a bad person,” Diego continues his rant, “and a worse father. The world’s better off without him.”

“Diego—” Allison reprimands.

“My _name_ is Number Two. You know why? Because our father couldn’t be bothered to give us actual names. He had Mom do it.”

“Would anyone like something to eat?” Mom asks, Diego’s mention of her name pulling her out of whatever trance she’d entered.

“No, it’s okay, Mom,” Vanya says.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Look, you want to pay your respects,” Diego says, “go ahead. But at least be honest about the kind of man he was.”

“You should stop talking now,” Luther growls, face growing dark.

It just escalates from there. Luther swings first, but it’s Diego who’s spitting insults and getting up in Luther’s face. Klaus puts up a hand, trying to push Five away from their fighting, but Five slaps him away. It’s not like this is something he’s unfamiliar with. He’s probably actually much more used to Diego and Luther’s brawls than the rest of his siblings, considering they all haven’t seen each other in years.

“Stop it!” Vanya shouts, only to be ignored like always.

“Hit him!” Klaus counters.

Luther’s fist barrels toward Diego’s face, but he’s too quick for Luther, ducking down out of the way. The punch connects with Ben’s statue, which proceeds to groan and topple over, the head breaking off as it hits the ground.

“Oh,” Klaus hisses, wincing dramatically.

“And there goes Ben’s statue,” Allison grumbles, turning to head back inside the house, where Pogo retreated to when the fighting first started to escalate. She stops when she sees Five frozen, staring slack-faced at the broken statue. “Hey, are you okay, Five?” A gentle hand comes to rest on his shoulder, snapping him out of his trance.

“I’m fine,” he snaps, shrugging her off. The shaky inhale that follows begs to differ, but Allison doesn’t mention it, just frowns down at him.

“Come on,” Vanya says appearing next to Allison. “Let’s go inside.”

They dissipate after that, everyone wanting to go their own separate ways. Vanya and Allison are the only ones who linger beside Five, the three of them sitting in the foyer in silence. Five plops himself down on the stairs, waiting for Diego to finish up whatever the hell he’s doing so they can go back to his boiler room. Vanya sits next to him, her knee resting against his. Five can see the inner war going on in her head while she debates whether or not to call a cab and leave. Allison is hovering, standing off to the side and fidgeting. She looks completely at a loss for how to handle the situation, but she doesn’t seem to want to leave Five alone, in case Vanya decides to leave. Five absolutely does not need this, but he also doesn’t have the energy to try and convince them to leave him alone.

It’s weird seeing Allison like this—the self-absorbed, bratty sister he knows does not smother him in a jacket to avoid a little chill or voluntarily stay in awkward silence just to make sure he’s okay and not alone. Growing up has changed her, and evidently so has motherhood.

She better figure out fast that Five is not her child, or Five’s going to go batshit.

Suddenly music begins to drift down, probably from Luther’s room. Five’s never really been big into music like Luther, but he recognizes the song. It was one Luther liked to put on rotation fairly often. _I Think We’re Alone Now,_ he thinks it’s called, but he can’t be sure.

The mood shifts as his sisters both perk up, Allison already beginning to groove to the familiar music while Vanya taps her foot. Five watches with a raised eyebrow as Allison’s swaying turns into real dancing and, even more surprising, Vanya actually stands up.

Allison urges Vanya to dance, both of them moving in their own styles. Allison is cool and fluid, Vanya odd and choppy and far more reserved, but they both look happy, laughing at each other. Honestly, Five is shocked. Vanya and Allison aren’t really friends, and he’s never seen Vanya be this bold. He wonders how often they’ve heard this song since he’s been gone, for this to be what looks like a regular activity.

Then Vanya grabs Five’s hand and suddenly he’s on his feet. Allison grabs his other hand, both of them forcing him to dance along with them by moving his arms to the beat.

“No, no, no,” Five says, trying to pull away. “I’m not a part of this.”

“Come on, Five,” Vanya says. “I’ve seen you dance before.”

“Wait, really?” Allison’s eyes light up in delight.

“No!”

“Oh, yes,” Vanya grins. “Back when we were all kids, Five used to do this kind of stuff all the time.”

“I did not! Vanya, that is a gross exaggeration.”

“But it did happen?” Allison prods.

Five grumbles, refusing to look at either of them. It is an exaggeration, really, but Vanya’s not flat-out lying. He’s also no stranger to Luther randomly blasting music, and he and Vanya may have occasionally jammed out—but that had been a secret Five would have taken to his grave.

“Just let it happen, Five,” Vanya says, squeezing his hand. “Some of us know you’re not a complete stick in the mud.”

“But I am.” He’s not.

“You’re not. C’mon, Five.”

Five looks at Vanya, at her other hand clasped in Allison’s. When has she ever been included by anyone other than Five himself? This is a big moment, Allison reaching out to Vanya. Already it seems to be making a small difference in his timid sister’s demeanor.

How can he ruin this for her?

“Fine,” he mumbles. The song’s halfway over by now anyway. “But you tell _no one,_ got it?”

Allison actually laughs in delight, twirling Vanya under her arm. Five doesn’t move a whole lot, mostly just letting his sisters do all the work, manipulating his arms for him. Allison leads, spinning them around the room, pulling Vanya and Five along for the ride. By the time the song fades away, Five catches himself grinning.

The door opens, Diego exiting the living room, followed shortly by Klaus. Thankfully, the song has ended, and the girls are no longer dancing, but Five still wrenches his hands away from his sisters, shoving them in his pockets inconspicuously. Diego raises an eyebrow and Klaus’s gaze follows the movement.

“Wait, did I miss the dance party?” Klaus gasps dramatically.

Diego rolls his eyes. “Don’t act like you weren’t also dancing, Klaus.”

“Well, _yes,_ but that’s not the point!” He gestures at them. “I missed the dance party with Five!”

“Alright, Diego,” Five says quickly, eager to change the subject. “Ready to head back to your disgusting boiler room?”

“You know, if you’re going to be ungrateful, you can stay somewhere else.”

“You live in a boiler room?” Luther asks, coming down the stairs.

“Five can stay with me,” Vanya interjects. She turns to Five. “I mean, if you want. You obviously don’t have to.”

“You could also stay here at the house,” Allison offers.

“Wait, wait,” Diego interrupts. “Five can’t stay anywhere by himself. He forgets to eat or sleep if left unsupervised.”

The others glance at each other, some silent conversation going on between them. Five frowns when he can’t follow along. He’s never been great and reading people and he doesn’t like to be left out of discussions, especially if they pertain to him.

Luther shifts awkwardly. “I think, um…”

Klaus takes over: “Since Five finally decided to pay us a visit—”

“We might stick around,” Allison finishes. “Just for a little bit. I—I can’t stay for too long, but for now…”

“So stop trying to hog the little guy, Diego,” Klaus says, making Diego roll his eyes.

“Whatever. It’s up to Five.”

“I’ll stay here tonight,” Five says. Hopefully his books are all still in his room—they’ll be useful for his calculations.

Vanya reaches out and hugs Five quickly one more time, a small smile on her face.

They all seem to care so much, in their own way, and he hates it because it makes him feel… Happy. Good. Loved.

All his life, showing affection in a healthy, open way was something that put you in danger, gave you a weakness. He _loves_ his siblings. They are the single most important thing in his life—and that means he can’t show them he cares. He can’t put them at risk.

Now, he’s stuck in a world where his dad’s dead and his siblings have sixteen years of pent-up grief and sadness. They’ve missed him, and they’re eager to show him that. He’s never actually been quite sure how to correctly show affection for his siblings, but now that he’s in a position where he has the chance, he knows it’s a massive pitfall. He’s going to go back to sneaking around and hiding his love behind arrogance and impertinence—and if he gets used to his siblings loving him, to being able to reciprocate that love, it’ll kill him. He can’t afford to get attached.

And yet, he can feel himself smiling, feeling lighter than he ever has in his entire life, all because his siblings love him. It feels good to be loved, to be cared for openly.

He’s been worried that he’d have to be too callous and uncaring and it would upset his siblings, even if they wouldn’t remember it once he made it back. But now it’s obvious that Five himself is just as much of a problem.

He can’t afford to get attached, but he’s not sure if he’ll be able to help it.

“Diego,” he says, sobering up, “I’ll need my notebooks.”

 

* * *

 

_Update:_

_Concerns event: Apocalypse_

 

_The Hargreeves have come back together as a family. We should let them grow closer—until it’s time to tear them apart. That will put the Apocalypse right back on track._

_The longer a person is in one’s life, the harder it is to cope their loss. The effects here, should things go according to my plan, will be catastrophic, just as we intend._

 

_Contact the R &D Department to set up a meeting. We have quite a few things to discuss. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the wonderful response to this fic! comments especially make me so, so happy. if anyone wants to actually chat, feel free to swing by my tumblr (@ ema--vee)


	5. November 7th, 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, if more of us are going to be staying here for a while, we’ll need to get the house ready. Grocery shopping, essentials for Five, that sort of thing.”
> 
> “Uh, I’m fine,” Five says around a mouthful of pancake.
> 
> “You have three hoodies and a stolen toothbrush,” Diego argues.

No one is quite sure how to behave at breakfast. There is no wake-up call from Mom, no ringing bell to summon them down for the day. There is no more standing behind their chairs, waiting to be allowed to sit and eat in silence, although Five still did out of deeply-ingrained habit, until Diego reminded him that he didn’t have to anymore. They trickle in, all around the same time, their internal clocks still mostly tuned to Reginald’s schedule. Diego and even Vanya come back from their own apartments and somehow they all make it to the table at the same time. 

Mom hums as she serves food—pancakes and eggs—but everyone else seems at a loss regarding meal-time conversation.

It doesn’t bother Five, who’s shoveling food into his mouth. For all Diego likes to help Mom in the kitchen, he has nothing on her cooking, and damn if Five hasn’t missed Mom’s food these past few months. 

Five, though, prefers to eat in silence. While he was staying with Diego, his brother kept trying to get them to eat together and talk, but Five had all but refused to participate. It won’t do to get used to things he can’t have.

“So, uh, what’s the plan for today?” Klaus asks, looking around at his awkward siblings. Five almost startles at the sound.

Allison takes a sip of her tea before answering. “Well, if more of us are going to be staying here for a while, we’ll need to get the house ready. Grocery shopping, essentials for Five, that sort of thing.”

“Uh, I’m fine,” Five says around a mouthful of pancake.

“You have three hoodies and a stolen toothbrush,” Diego argues. “You need more clothes at the very least.”

“I still have my uniform.” He’d only ditched it in the first place because it was too conspicuous. He was perfectly fine with going back to them. Clothes are clothes.

“Nope!” Klaus says. “I’m gonna veto that one for all of us. You can do so much better than running around in those horrible shorts.”

“It is almost winter,” Allison agrees. “You’ll need some warmer clothes.”

Five frowns. “We always did fine before with just the uniforms.”

“Yeah, well we weren’t exactly allowed out all that often, were we?” Diego mutters into his mug. 

“So I figure a few of us will go grocery shopping and the others will get Five whatever he needs to be a normal human,” Allison says. “Vanya, do you plan on staying here at all? I know Klaus sort of annexed your room, but we can get another one set up for you if you want.”

Vanya startles slightly at her name, but nods slowly. “That would be great. Thanks.”

Allison smiles, gentle though still a bit awkward. “Luther, would you be willing to stay back and get Vanya set up?”

“Sure,” Luther agrees readily, most likely because Allison is the one who’s asking, otherwise he might have not even remembered Vanya was in the room. Five doesn’t like that; it’s one of the main things he plans to change once he gets back.

“Oh! I call taking Five shopping,” Klaus says.

Diego rolls his eyes. “And I’ll go with them so Klaus doesn’t get murdered.”

“I guess that leaves me and Vanya going to the store,” Allison says, smiling again at Vanya.

“Do I get a say in this?” Five asks.

“Not a chance,” Diego says. 

“I really need to—”

Diego cuts him off abruptly. “You can work later. We’ll get settled in and then you can hide away and do math until your little head explodes.”

Five opens his mouth to argue, but he’s cut off by a half-disappointed, half-pleading look from Allison. If she wants him to do this, she’s going to ensure that he does it, and Five would rather not be forced into it against his will. He  _ hates _ being rumored, and it would be ridiculous to lose his sense of autonomy for something as trivial as shopping for stuff he probably actually does need. 

“Fine.” He scowls and stabs at his pancake. What is he letting himself get dragged into? 

Whatever. He’ll just humor them a little bit longer, and then they’ll finally get off his back.

 

* * *

 

When they were thirteen, and Five first disappeared, most of the Hargreeves had dreamed of seeing Five again. Klaus, on the other hand, had dreaded it. The lingering anxiety of finding Five standing there and going to hug him, only for his hands to pass straight through him overpowered any hope he managed to hold on to. When he saw Five standing there in the door of Reggie’s office, he’d thought his childhood nightmares were returning.

But then Allison said he was real, and Klaus got to hug him for himself, and that made up for all of it, even the horrible scare the kid gave him at first.

It’s pretty clear that now that the initial terror has come and gone, Klaus is having the easiest time adjusting to their brother coming back. Luther is too dazed to give his good ole trademark  _ Number One _ lectures and Allison is all hovery and nervous. Vanya he knows is probably ecstatic about it all, but it’s overshadowed by all the shock and confusion. Every time she looks at Five, it’s like she’s seeing a ghost—and Klaus would know. Even Diego, who’s had longer to process and is certainly trying to act all confident and nonchalant, startles slightly every time Five enters the room, and Klaus has caught him staring more than once. 

Maybe it’s because Klaus is used to rolling with the punches (and to seeing a long-lost brother no one else can), but it took him all of ten minutes to reassess his life and just accept that Five is back and he’s still thirteen. 

They have a little brother now, and that’s just how it is. 

Klaus, for one, is excited. This is his chance to give Five some semblance of a real childhood! (And possibly live vicariously through him while he’s at it.) 

Five is going to be way more fun to hang out with than the rest of his stick-in-the-mud siblings. Five has a sense of humor. He’s actually  _ fun, _ if Klaus remembers correctly, when he wants to be, and Klaus is determined to see the return of Fun Five. Fun Five is one of his favorite siblings.

 

Alright, so either Fun Five didn’t survive the trip to 2018, or Five is working damn hard to swallow down that side of him. Diego isn’t helping either, being all grumpy and gloomy and (ugh) responsible.

They’re standing in the junior’s section of a department store, both Klaus and Diego watching Five and waiting for him to lead them towards the stuff he’s most interested in. Five is just gazing around, looking bored and impatient, and it takes Klaus a moment to realize that if no one takes the lead here, they will stand in this spot for the next several hours. Five has never shopped for himself, other than when he stole a couple hoodies for himself, and being the little pragmatist he is, they were probably just the first things he saw. 

“Say something, Klaus,” Ben urges, rolling his eyes. “Someone has to do something eventually.”

“Well, Five?” he asks, raising his eyebrows and waving his arms around at the various aisles. “Where to first?”

Five scowls. “I didn’t even want to come here. I don’t really care what we get. Let’s just grab some stuff and go.”

Diego only wears black and leather and spandex, and Klaus’s style has always been more eccentric than Five tends to have the patience for, so neither of those are options. This is Five’s choice to make, for the first time in his life, and Klaus isn’t going to take it away from him, even if he has to push him towards making the decision.

“You had hoodies before,” Diego points out helpfully. “Do you want more?”

Five shrugs. “I don’t care.”

“Okay… Well, you said you’d be fine with the uniform still. Do you want stuff like that?”

“Yeah, do you want to dress like a miniature businessman, Five?” Klaus asks.

Five wrinkles his nose. “Not really.”

“So, hoodies then,” Diego says with a nod, starting toward the more casual clothes. Five moves to follow him.

Klaus frowns. “There are in-between options you know. Jeans and like, regular shirts. You can try stuff on, find what you like.”

“I don’t want to stay here any longer than necessary, Klaus,” Five says, and Diego looks inclined to agree. Ugh. This mission should have been Klaus and Allison. He needs an ally in the war against his grumpy brothers’ scowls. Even Ben is just looking on, mildly amused by the whole situation.

“Come on, Five. Pleeeeease?”

They stare at each other, neither one wanting to be the first to concede and look away. Five is stubborn, but Klaus has more than a decade’s practice staring off with Ben, who, being a ghost, didn’t even need to blink.

In the background, Diego groans, throwing his head back in exasperation. “The sooner we get started, the sooner we can leave. Come on, Five let’s just get this over with.”

“Fine,” Five snaps, holding onto Klaus’s stare for just a moment longer before glaring and stomping towards the clothes.

Five watches, bored and disinterested, as Klaus piles different shirts over his arm for the kid to try on, ignoring every one of Ben’s useless comments. He’s not sticking to any one style or color-scheme, instead grabbing a variety of things, so long as they look like they’ll fit Five, tiny little gremlin that he is. Diego looks like he’s not paying attention, but he slips a couple things into Klaus’s pile just to annoy Five. One is a brightly-colored Hawaiian shirt that looks like it was designed by someone colorblind, another is a t-shirt with what Klaus can only assume is some science nerd joke that he doesn’t understand but Five will probably think is ridiculously childish, and finally there’s a blue t-shirt that just reads “Free Hugs!”

“It’s revenge,” Diego mumbles when Five gets momentarily distracted by a mannequin, “for getting me in trouble with Allison.”

The joke’s on Diego though, because Five cracks a genuine smile at the science t-shirt and snorts at how ridiculous the Hawaiian monstrosity is. He puts them on together, and then snickers in the mirrors for a solid five minutes at the terrible combination. He’ll probably never actually wear either piece, but Klaus enjoys the kid’s amusement so much that he sticks them both in the cart just for the hell of it—Allison’s paying anyway, with all her movie star money.

The “Free Hugs!” shirt on the other hand, does not even make it onto Five’s person. He tosses the thing over the top of the changing room wall, smacking Diego in the face with enough precision that Klaus has to wonder if Five has some of Diego’s power. Or maybe it’s just karma, who knows?

Diego had stayed in the general vicinity long enough to see if Five would actually put on his fashion nightmares. After getting smacked by the t-shirt, he excuses himself to find some other necessities for Five. New toothbrush, comb, socks—all that boring shit.

In the end, they get jeans and mostly simple shirts, although Klaus is pleasantly surprised by the amount of color in Five’s wardrobe. Five doesn’t really seem to be inspired by his very first shopping experience, but he doesn’t look murderous either, so Klaus considers the day a win. 

“Did today actually happen?” Diego asks him while they’re waiting for Five to use the bathroom.

“Sure did. I thought you were all well and adjusted to baby Five being back.”

Diego sighs. “How on earth could I be adjusted? Wait, how are you so adjusted?”

Klaus shrugs. “Weirder things have happened in our lives.”

“Yeah, but, he was missing. For sixteen years.”   


“I mean, I always knew he wasn’t dead, so. There’s that.” 

As soon as Ben had made his ghostly reappearance in Klaus’s life and refused to leave, Klaus had known. Five was alive. If Klaus could see Ben, then he would have been able to see Five too, if he were dead. It wasn’t quite relief, per say, because he still hadn’t know quite where Five actually was, and he could still be in danger, could appear at any moment. But until Klaus saw him as a ghost, he would stick his brother firmly in the “not dead” category and let it be. That system hadn’t failed him once in sixteen years.

The others really shouldn’t have been so surprised; Five did used to whine about time travel all the time, and they should have known the little bastard would be too stubborn to die.

“I guess,” Diego mutters.

Five appears in front of them in a flash of blue, tapping his foot impatiently, despite the fact that they had literally been waiting on Five so they could go.

“You numbskulls ready to leave yet?” 

“You got it, little bro.” Klaus nods. “Hey, Diego, can I drive?”

“ _ Hell no. _ ”

 

* * *

 

“So,” Allison says, pushing the shopping cart down the aisle of the grocery store. “What kind of food does Five like? Any ideas?”

Vanya shrugs. “It’s not like we really ever had the opportunity to choose what we ate most of the time as kids. I only know the peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches, really. The only other time he had any choice in the matter was when you all snuck out to Griddy’s, and I, uh…”

“Right,” Allison says, staring down at the tile floor. “I’m sorry, Vanya. We should have invited you. We should have tried harder to include you.”

“Five always invited me, but I usually turned him down. Sometimes he brought back something for me, usually a chocolate donut with sprinkles, but I don’t know if that’s what he got or not.”

“I don’t remember what he used to get,” Allison says, frowning. “I should have paid more attention.”

“It was sixteen years ago, Allison. I think it’s okay.”

“Luther liked glazed,” she says softly. “But he’s the only one I remember.”

“Well, you’ve always been closest with him.”

“He’s my best friend. But still…”

Vanya wonders if, had she been bold enough to ever tag along, she would know Five’s donut order by heart. Five liked routine; most likely he would have gotten the same thing every time. It was probably something strange or overly sweet, something the rest of her siblings would have thought was gross. Chocolate with sprinkles probably wasn’t his usual order, but something he’d picked specifically for Vanya.

“I can’t believe he’s back,” Vanya muses, more to herself than to Allison, but her sister nods anyway.

“Just seeing him standing there in the living room nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Vanya chuckles breathily, remembering her own initial shock. She’d been able to feel her heartbeat in her palms. “I woke up this morning convinced it had all been a dream.” 

Allison pauses while Vanya pulls stuff down from the shelves and tosses it in the cart. She grabs several bags of mini marshmallows, since it’s the only thing she knows for sure that Five loves. Pretty much everything else will have to be trial and error, although Five has never been a picky eater. From what Diego’s said, they’ll probably be lucky if he looks up from his equations long enough to even know what he’s putting in his body. It’s a miracle they’ve gotten him to settle down enough to eat breakfast and get some new clothes.

“But he’s really here,” Allison says, smiling. “And he’s the same little shit I remember.”

“He’s exactly the same, which I guess makes sense. I just… It also makes me miss the way things used to be. Not the majority of our childhoods, but… Five is back, and he hasn’t changed, but I have, you know? It’s weird, seeing him so much younger than us now. We grew up without him and… This whole thing is so confusing.”

Even though they were all born on the same day, there’s always been a part of Vanya that felt so much younger than some of her siblings. Luther, Diego, and Allison especially, but also Five, although in a different way. While one through three felt like they were on a different level, some untouchable platform where they battled it out, Five was self-assured enough to seem older all on his own, and he had a protective streak that ran deep for the lower numbers. Now he looks so young that she feels the overwhelming need to protect him, the way he used to for her. She can’t see him as her “older” brother anymore—and it’s jarring.

Allison nods, although Vanya suspects that even though they’re both suddenly seeing him as a child for probably the first time, Allison sees Five through a different lens, a parental lens. 

“He makes me think of Claire,” she admits, confirming Vanya’s suspicions. “Which is ridiculous, because he’s our brother and he’s a lot older than her, but I just want to wrap him up and protect him from the world. Having Claire, it’s made me realize how much of our lives were really messed up.” 

Vanya nods along, grabbing the fruit and vegetables Mom had asked for. She glances over at her sister to see her expression grow almost pained. “Are you okay?”

“I miss her,” Allison almost whispers. “Claire. I didn’t know it was possible to miss a person this much.”

“I’m sorry,” Vanya says. She’s at a loss for how to comfort her sister here. 

Allison sniffs once, then shakes her head as if to physically shake her sadness away. “But for now, I’ll just have to focus all my excess mothering energy on Five.”

“Oh, he’ll love that.”

“He can’t stop me.” She grins wickedly.

Vanya snickers as she puts the milk in the cart. “Do we need anything else?”

“I feel like we should get something special,” Allison says. “To celebrate.”

“I don’t think Five knows how to celebrate.”

“He’ll have to figure it out,” Allison says, steering them towards the baking mixes. Mom could probably make cake from scratch and it would taste heavenly, but Vanya isn’t about to stop Allison as she grabs boxed chocolate cake mix. “I’m not the best baker,” Allison admits, reaching around Vanya to get two cans of chocolate icing, “but Claire and I can make a mean box-mix cake. She loves chocolate.”

Vanya shrugs. “I don’t think Five will complain. We can throw on some of the marshmallows and he’ll be happy.”

“Look at us,” Allison grins, shaking her head. “We might actually figure this thing out. Yay sisters.”

“Yay sisters,” Vanya echoes, her own smile spreading. They feel just a bit like an actual family.

 

Five does like the cake, even though it’s a gigantic mess—which is honestly more Klaus and Diego’s faults than Allison or Vanya, considering the fact that they practically started a food fight in the middle of the girls trying to decorate it. 

(Allison had heaped on the icing and Vanya was in the process of carefully placing marshmallows on top when Diego and Klaus interrupted. Diego had rolled his eyes and mentioned something about how horribly sweet the whole thing was going to be, so Klaus snatched the marshmallow bag from Vanya’s hands and looked Diego straight in the eye as he emptied the entire thing on top of the cake.

Vanya excused herself from the kitchen as it dissolved into complete chaos after that. She thought she might have heard Allison yelling at them to calm the hell down, but eventually her sister too exited the kitchen, unfortunately not before she got hit by what looked suspiciously like a flour bomb. Vanya hid her smile as Allison stomped past her, muttering under her breath about murdering their brothers.)

But Five seems to enjoy it nonetheless, although he scarfs it down quickly, just like he did with the rest of his dinner, never seeming to realize that it’s meant to be part of a celebration. He does offer Vanya a small smile though, which she counts as the tiniest of wins.

“So,” Allison says as dinner comes to an end, when Five is scraping the last of the icing off of his plate. “Claire and I like to play board games after dinner sometimes. I thought maybe we could have a family game night?” She looks around the table, smiling warmly, although her eyes showed something far more stressed and desperate. 

“No thanks,” Five says, before anyone else can shoot Allison down, and Vanya can tell they were planning to. “I’ve got some work to do.” With that, their little brother stands up and disappears in a flash of blue.

Allison looks absolutely crestfallen, but Diego just sighs, not looking surprised in the least. “Yeah, he does that,” he says, standing up as well and gathering his own plate as well as Five’s to take into the kitchen. “Good luck trying to get his nose out of his books for more than five minutes. If you figure it out, let me know, because he’s a pain in the ass when he gets into work mode.”

“That brings me to a different point,” Allison says when Diego returns, glaring at him until he concedes and comes back to the table. “We need to discuss how we’re going to handle all this.”

“Between the five of us,” Diego says, plopping back down in his seat and folding his arms across his chest, “we almost make a whole functioning adult. Almost. We’d be almost two adults,” he glances at Allison, “but he knows you’re a mom, and he doesn’t want any part of that, so he’s probably going to try and avoid you as much as possible.”

“Why does he have to be so stubborn?” Luther grumbles, glaring down at the table as if it were the reason Five wouldn’t accept their help, instead of more than a decade of abuse and the mile-wide superiority complex that Five had carefully crafted in order to survive.

“I can cook,” Diego continues, ignoring Luther. “And Vanya, you live alone, so you must at least know something.”

“Uh, yeah… I can cook some…”

“Great,” he cuts her off. “And—”

“Wait,” Klaus interrupts. “Diego, I’ve seen you crack a raw egg straight into your mouth.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen that too,” Luther adds.

“That’s not exactly a proper meal for growing boys.” 

Diego shoots him a glare. “I know that!” he snaps. “I’m not gonna give the kid raw eggs, damnit. I know how to make the basics. And I assume Allison does too?”

“I, uh, I know what five-year-olds like.” Allison grimaces, clearly thinking about her separation from Claire. 

Diego shrugs. “Whatever. Five’s not picky.”

“Even I can make a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich,” Klaus says.

Diego shoots him a glare. “He can’t live off of that, and it’s about all he’ll make for himself, so you have to be the one to make something else. Vegetables, protein, whole grains. All that food-pyramid shit.”

“Mom can help then,” Allison says, nodding along with Diego’s instructions. “In the meantime, until we can all learn to make actual food.”

Vanya knows Five hadn’t been staying with Diego for all that long (although longer than any of them would have preferred), but he seems to have taken very quickly to the role of big brother. It’s a natural fit for him, and even Allison seems to be deferring to his ideas, despite being an actual parent. 

Maybe that’s the thing—Five needs his family, his  _ siblings, _ not a parent. The idea of a real parent is too foreign to all of them; there’s no way Five would be comfortable with that. But with the siblings that he’s always loved, maybe there’s a shot.  They’re finally in a position where they can help him, if only they can get him to take it. Or trick him into accepting it. There might have to be some trial and error, but it looks like everyone’s willing to give it a try. 

“But what about when he goes back?” Luther asks. “When he’s not being babied anymore? Won’t this just make it harder for him?”

“We’re not going to baby him,” Allison snaps at him. “We’re just trying to help him.”

“He’s pretty self-sufficient, though. He was doing fine before Diego caught him.”

“He was living on the street like the stubborn, hard-headed idiot he is,” Diego huffs.

“Five is stubborn, and he can certainly be rude,” Allison says. “But that’s his way of trying to be a grown-up here. I mean, look at it this way, we used to all be the same age, we were born on the  _ same day _ as him, and now suddenly we’ve grown up and he hasn’t. Teenagers already don’t want to be viewed as kids, and this is just going to make Five push back even harder.”

Luther scowls. “Well, if he wants to be that way, maybe we should just let him be.” 

“Because he’s not an adult! Yeah, thirteen isn’t a baby or anything, and Five is plenty smart and probably capable of taking care of himself if he wanted to, but that doesn’t matter. He’s still a kid, and kids need someone to take of them. It’s important for their development and mental health to know that they at the very least have a safety net. And it’s up to us to be that safety net, even if Five acts like he doesn’t want or need it.”

“The real challenge,” Diego says, “is getting him to sleep. If you put food in front of him, you can usually get him to eat it, but if you try and extract that damn notebook from his hand to get him to go to bed, you’re going to lose at least a finger. So far I’ve just been letting him pass out at some point in the night and letting him sleep until he wakes up naturally.”

“That’s not healthy,” Allison chastises.

“Well, when you figure out a better solution, Allison, you be sure to let us all know. Good luck with that.”

Vanya allows herself to drift slightly from the discussion, already planning conversations she could have with Five that would hopefully help. He might actually listen to her, she realizes with a start. She was one of the only people who could get him to settle down when they were younger, hopefully her same small stature and quiet nature are enough to help him overlook the fact that she’s now a twenty-nine-year-old adult trying to get a stubborn thirteen-year-old to sleep.

This just might be her time to shine. Finally, she’s more suited for a task than the rest of her siblings. For once  _ they _ need  _ her. _ It’s a nice feeling.

“We’ll figure it out,” Allison says, nodding confidently, although her expression is anything but. “It just might take some creativity.”

“Well,” Klaus says, sitting up, “this family is nothing if not unconventional.”

“We should all get some sleep,” Luther suggests. “We can talk more tomorrow.”

Allison nods and that’s that—the adult Hargreeves siblings stand up and go about their separate lives. Diego leaves, back to his place, stopping only to say goodnight to Mom. Allison and Luther drift off upstairs together, speaking softly to each other. Klaus cuts himself another heaping piece of cake before collapsing onto the couch, balancing the plate on his chest. He kicks off his shoes and socks, which tells Vanya he might not actually go up to his own room tonight. Vanya doesn’t really care where her brother sleeps, but it does irk her slightly that he destroyed her pitiful room in order to make his own slightly bigger and he can’t even be bothered to use it. 

Vanya trudges up to the room Luther prepared for her. It’s up on the floor above almost everyone else’s, not far from Five’s room. She can see his light on under his door.

She just wants to stop in, just get a quick reminder before bed that he’s really here. This morning, when she woke up she was scared she’d somehow managed to dream up his reappearance. Seeing him at breakfast had been a massive sigh of relief. 

“Five?” she calls, rapping lightly on the door. “Can I come in?”

There’s a sound from inside, something akin to a grunt, but Vanya thinks it sounds affirmative, so she pushes the door open.

Five’s in his pajamas, sitting up in bed, hunched over a notebook. He continues scribbling in it, not setting his pen down until Vanya reaches the edge of his bed.

“What is it, Vanya?” he asks, not unkindly.

“I just wanted to say goodnight.”

He nods once, still not looking up. “Goodnight, Vanya. Sleep well.”

“You too. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

He nods again, more absently than in agreement, but she’ll take what she can get. 

She moves to turn, but then pauses, looking down at Five, who’s already mostly turned his attention away from her. She hesitates, but then quickly leans down and presses a kiss to the top of his head. Five stiffens, his hand freezing in the middle of his writing, and Vanya thinks she’s crossed a line. He doesn’t look up at her, instead eyeing her without lifting his head. He doesn’t snap at her though, doesn’t glare or growl or flinch away. He seems more at a loss, frozen with shock. She has to admit, she’s a bit shocked herself.

Time seems to have slowed almost to a halt, as they both freeze right where they are. Vanya, desperate to escape the awkward situation she’s created, turns on her heel and practically sprints out of Five’s room, shutting the door behind her.

Well, that happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter fought me the whole way and i still think it's kinda meh, but whatever


	6. November 9th, 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five looks like a shadow of himself, pale and shaky, with deep, dark bags under his eyes. It’s only been three days, shut away in his room and scribbling out equation after equation as he pours over his collection of textbooks—and he’s already run himself into the ground.

The Hargreeves household has never been anything even resembling functional, but Allison is determined for them to act their act together enough to at least keep from fucking Five up. 

Actually, at this point she’ll settle for keeping him alive. 

They’ve known about his return for about three days now (Diego’s known longer), and so far they’ve had a grand total of four semi-functional family meals and exactly zero instances of Five getting a healthy amount of sleep. She wasn’t really proud of spying, but Vanya had mentioned seeing his light on late into the night and early morning.

Five only comes out of his room or interacts with any of them when he has to—food twice a day, maybe water every now and then. Allison had recruited Luther in getting the house rid of any and all caffeine after she caught the kid downing his fourth giant mug of coffee in as many hours. Hopefully it would help him sleep, or at least physically keep him from staying awake all night long.

Diego and Vanya leave during the day to go to work, Klaus keeps wandering off, just as she'd expected, and Luther has a tendency to sulk in his room, bored and playing his records on repeat. Allison is alone most of the day, trying to do… something. Anything. She's helped Mom cook and do some laundry, but that was it. Her only other option is continuing to try to have a civil conversation with Patrick, only for it to devolve again and again into a screaming match before one of them inevitably hangs up on the other. 

And she’s getting sick of it. The only time she sees the rest of her siblings is when they all drift back in the evening, bound together by Five’s return, only for all of their fragile smiles to crumple when Five jumps away and locks himself back in his room.

It aches, watching and trying to become a family again,  _ for Five, _ and not really knowing how. They’ve never known how to be a family. Allison’s never really known how to be sibling, and now she’s not sure if she’d ever known how to be a mom either—so this big sister, guardian thing was like drowning in her uncertainty. 

She needs help. She needs stability. She needs something to keep her mind off of the fact that both of her goddamn families are slipping through her aching fingers.

Allison has always been one to act without putting much thought into it. She's relied on her instincts, acting impulsively and with little thought of potential consequences. She’d figured that no matter what trouble she got herself into, she could always rumor her way out.

But with Claire, everything inside her had starting screaming—alarms blaring, lights flashing, the whole nine yards—to not take risks, to not take a single one. Once she’d escaped her father and the Academy, she’d learned how messed up their lives had actually been. She didn’t want to raise her own kid in anything even remotely resembling the toxic, abusive, child-soldier factory she’d grown up in. 

So she’d started planning, for what may have been the first time in her life. Perhaps not all of her actions were extraordinarily well thought-out, like using her powers to help get Claire to sleep or behave, but she hadn’t seen that as truly harmful, especially not compared to some of the stuff that had been done to her and her siblings growing up. (And certainly not harmful compared to the things she’d made other people done, even if they were deserving criminals.) 

But everything else—carefully balanced career and family time, three different schedules, meals that included fruits and vegetables while still being edible by toddler standards—was thought out, in detail. Now, she likes planning. She likes being in control of her life and the people in it. If she isn’t going to bend reality to her will with her words, she can at least take charge and make sure everything is exactly as it should be some other way.

And she’s never felt less in control than she does right now. She can’t see Claire, can’t get Patrick to listen to her for more than three angry minutes, can’t get her family to tolerate each other’s presences or even have a simple conversation, can’t get Luther to stop obsessing over Dad’s death, can’t get Diego to stop jumping to conclusions and going on the offensive at every little thing, can’t help Klaus, can’t seem to really connect with Vanya, can’t get her now-little brother to come down from his room. It’s far too many  _ can’t _ s for a girl who always had the world at her fingertips and under her feet, who was used to getting anything she wanted with just a few words.

She’s spiraling, so far out of her element, and she needs to do  _ something, _ even if there’s very little chance of it actually working. So she rummages around the house, stealing one of the notebooks Diego bought for Five and tearing out several pages, and gets to work.

 

* * *

 

“Five?” Vanya says softly, rapping lightly on his door. 

Her brother opened it a moment later, frowning but not scowling. “Yes, Vanya? Can I help you with something?”

“It’s 4:00 in the morning,” she says around a yawn, running her fingers through her tangled hair in an effort to alleviate some of her stress.

“Is it?” Five looks genuinely surprised, but not worried. He shrugs. “I’ll go to bed soon. Promise.”

Five sticks out his pinky, smiling weakly and raising his other hand to prove that his fingers weren’t crossed behind his back. It's been a long time, probably for both of them, since Five and Vanya have pinky-promised something, back when they could both be found hiding in the dark, dreaming of the future, trying to help each other survive. 

Vanya frowns at the sight and gently lowers his hand, keeping his fingers lightly held in hers, not letting him disappear or shut the door on her.

“You didn’t used to break your promises to me, Five.” He'd never broken a single one, up until the night he promised that one day he would get them  _both_ out that hellhole. She supposes he still has the chance to keep that one though, although that's really part of the problem here.

“I’m wasn’t going to—”

She shakes her head, feeling sad and tired. Five looks like a shadow of himself, pale and shaky, with deep, dark bags under his eyes. It’s only been three days, shut away in his room and scribbling out equation after equation as he pours over his collection of textbooks—and he’s already run himself into the ground. 

And the worst part is, Vanya knows why. She knows he misses them, misses his family, the ones waiting back in 2002. All he wants is to get back home to them. She knows what it’s like to miss someone like that, because she missed Five like that for more than a decade. She would have done anything to have him back at her side when she was thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. But not like this. She wouldn’t want him to do this to himself, none of them would.

“Five.” She pushes past him into the room, moving to sit on the edge of his bed and tugging him along by his hand in hers. “You’ve always been the smartest of us Hargreeves. You can do stuff with that big brain,” she taps his forehead, watching him blink, stunned and confused, with each poke, “of yours that none of the rest of us can even dream of.”

“Vanya—”

“So you should know, then, that what you’ve been doing, what you’re doing  _ right now _ … It isn’t the right way to go.”

He crumples under her words, hunching over on himself and loosely hugging his stomach with his free arm. Vanya squeezes his hand once. 

“I want to go back, Vanya.” Her heart breaks at the way his voice cracks on her name. “I know I can—”

“Five, I know this must be a lot for you. We grew up, and you didn’t. Literally everything around you is different. This should be your home, but it’s not. It’s understandable that you might be having a hard time processing.”

“It’s not just that,” he says, voice soft and sad. He must really be exhausted if he’s willing to talk feelings of his own volition with only minimal prodding. “You missed me, Vanya. You… you left out sandwiches and turned the light on. Diego—Diego said he  _ mourned, _ that you guys all grieved for me. I didn’t mean to do that to you. I—I have to make this right. I…” He cracks, as if the words are physically painful to say, and he can barely get them unstuck from the back of his throat. “I don’t want anyone to mourn me.”

“Five…” She smiles sadly, tugging at him slightly until he relents, tucking himself into her side. She brushes the hair back off of his forehead. “I’m not an expert on time travel, that’s obviously you, but no matter how long you’re here, you’ll be able to go back to whatever moment you want. It’ll be like you never left. I know you’re eager to get back, but you don’t have to kill yourself trying to get there as fast as possible. You have, quite literally, all the time in the world.”

“I know it’s stupid…” he mumbles against her shoulder.

“You’re allowed to slow down, Five. You’re allowed to take a break sometimes. It’s okay. In fact, it’ll probably help you out in the long run. If you keep going like this, never sleeping, barely eating, you’re going to crash and burn. Take it slow. Slow _ er, _ at the very least. Work smart, not just fast. It’s okay for you to breathe.”

She feels more than sees him shaking his head, still pressed against her side, his forehead on her shoulder. “I can’t— I have to— You’re all… distractions.”

Vanya goes still at that, suddenly feeling ice cold. “Distractions?” she asks. Her voice comes out as a raspy whisper. 

Is that really all they are? Does he really feel nothing for the siblings he still has here, just because they’re a few years older?

“No,” he says, cutting off her spiraling thoughts. He sounds frustrated, though more with himself than with her. “No, it’s just… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, Vanya. I didn’t mean that. Ugh, this is why I tried to stay away. There’s— None of you can understand and—”

“Five…” She sighs, leaning over to rest her own head atop Five’s. His hair is greasy against her cheek, probably since showering has also not been his main priority. “Just… meet us halfway here. That’s all I’m asking. Work with us, let us help you. We want to be here for you, I want to be here for you. I… I want to see _ you, _ not just your bedroom door. I’ve seen that door a lot over the years.”

He winces against her side, almost imperceptibly, but she catches it and resumes running her fingers through his hair in what is hopefully a comforting and soothing gestures. It’s what Mom always used to do when they were young and sick. 

“I know,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. I—I’m trying to fix it, I swear.”

“I know, Five. Of course I know. That’s the whole dilemma here, right? No one’s asking you to stop—we want you to get home, we want to help you get home. But there has to be a better way, a healthier way.”

“Alright,” he says, his voice barely audible. “Okay. I… I’m sorry. I’m just—I’m tired, Vanya.”

She chuckles lightly, hugging him tighter against her side. “That’s the seventy-two hours of nonstop math, bud. Why don’t you get some sleep, and then we’ll talk tomorrow,  _ all _ of us. We’ll figure out the right balance.”

“I… Yeah, okay. We can… we can talk. Tomorrow.”

“Get some rest, Five. For real.”

When he nods, she takes it as permission to gently extract herself from his side and ease him back against the pillow. He’s still wearing some of the actual clothes he got with Diego and Klaus, and it’s probably not the best idea to sleep in jeans, but by the time she fetches his pajamas from his dresser and turns back around, Five is curled up on his side, hugging his comforter and dead asleep. 

Well, she clearly wasn’t wrong about him running himself ragged. 

“Three days, huh?” she murmurs, carefully capping his pen and turning off the light. “You little idiot genius. You better get a solid twelve hours. Sweet dreams, Five.”

She pads back down the hall to her own room, yawning. That was actually… a productive conversation. Hopefully when Five wakes up, he won’t fall back into his bad habits. She doesn’t want to be a distraction, she wants to be there for him. She wants to be part of his support system, like Allison mentioned. 

She wants her brother back.

 

Five doesn’t come down for breakfast, which is actually unusual. So far he’s been at least showing up if only just to eat as quickly as possible and jump away again, but this time there’s no sign of him. 

“Mom?” Diego asks, looking twitchy in their little brother’s unprecedented absence. “Have you seen Five?”

Thankfully, Mom nods and keeps on smiling. “He’s in his room.” The table slumps collectively, dejected, before she continues. “I was going to wake him, but he’s been having such a hard time sleeping, so I thought it best to leave him be for the time being.”

“He’s… sleeping?” Luther asks.

Mom nods. “Yep!”

“Wow,” Diego whistles. “What changed?”

Vanya hesitates, but then decides to speak up. She’s kind of proud of herself, after all, for getting Five to take a break. “I talked to him last night.”

“And you got him to go to sleep? Willingly?”

“You didn’t, like, knock him out with one of his books?” Klaus asks. “Because honestly, I don’t think any of us would blame you if you did.” Diego nods in agreement while Allison scowls.

Vanya resists the urge to roll her eyes. “I mean, I think he knew that what he was doing wasn’t sustainable, even if he didn’t want to admit it. He was exhausted. I just sort of pushed him in the right direction.”

“Good for you, Vanya,” Allison says with a soft smile.

“Turns out Vanya’s had powers all along! You’re the Five whisperer,” Klaus stage whispers with a grin.

Vanya shrugs, feeling her face flush. “It was 4:00 a.m. though, so it might be a while before he actually wakes up.”

Allison sighs. “Well, his sleep schedule is going to be all out of whack for a while, but at least it’s a start.”

“Five has never even heard of a sleep schedule,” Diego says. “He’ll be fine.”

 

It becomes troubling when Five doesn’t come down for lunch either. Lunch was admittedly the meal Five had been skipping the most—either one of them would shove a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich under his door or he just wouldn’t eat at all. But since he’d missed breakfast, it had seemed reasonable to assume that he would at least come down and eat something for lunch.

Diego yells his name up the stairs, and then sends Mom up to the kid’s room when there’s no response, only for her to reassure them that Five is fine, and not ignoring them, just still sleeping off his days of exhaustion.

“Should we wake him up?” Luther asks. “It’s been nine hours.”

“We should probably let him sleep,” Allison says. “At least for a while longer. He was awake and not taking care of himself for a long time.”

 

Five finally makes his reappearance at dinner. He’s showered and dressed in different, clean clothes, the bags under his eyes significantly smaller, despite the fact that he looks a bit disoriented.

“Oh look!” Diego grins. “He lives!”

“It’s a miracle!” Klaus crows over his shoulder.

“Shut up,” Five grumbles, slumping down in his seat at the table. Allison hands him a glass of water which he downs in a few seconds.

“Did you have a nice nap?” Diego asks as he sets a plate down in front of Five and grabs his glass to refill it.

Five scowls. “If you’re gonna make a big deal about it, maybe I won’t do it again.”

“No, no, no,” Allison says hurriedly. “He’s done. No more teasing.”

“About this,” Klaus mutters, and Allison rolls her eyes but doesn’t object. Five is her brother too after all, so the teasing is a given from all of them. They all know Five can give as good as he gets anyway.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here, Five,” Allison says. “I figured you’d want to at least get a say in this.”

Vanya watches as Allison, looking slightly nervous and awkward, sets a small stack of papers on the table, pushing them into the middle for the others to see.

“What are these?” Diego asks, picking up a page and squinting at the writing.

“Is this a… chore chart?” Klaus asks about another one.

“Yes,” Allison says. “If we’re all going to be living here, we should all pitch in. Equally.”

Vanya leans over Klaus’s shoulder to look at the chart. Allison’s neat and tidy handwriting covered the page, organizing all of their names into a handy, color-coded chart. Five’s name was among the rest of theirs just as often, and she suppressed a grin at her sister’s brilliance. With some of the tasks being not only  _ do the dishes _ or  _ vacuum the first floor  _ or  _ clean the bathroom  _ but also  _ go grocery shopping _ and  _ make lunch, _ it would force Five out of his head on those days, at least for a little while. In fact, it looked a little bit like Five was assigned a disproportionate amount of times to tasks that would get him out of the house, just with a rotating schedule of the siblings he'd be accompanying.

“Wait,” Luther says as one of the pages gets passed to him. He grins slightly, looking more mischievous that Vanya has ever really seen him. “This is a babysitting schedule.”

“What?!” Five jumps over to him and snatches the paper out of Luther’s hand. “I’m not a baby, Allison! No one is going to be babysitting me!”

“It’s not a babysitting schedule,” Allison argues, raising her hands and trying to look placating. “It’s just…”

“It’s a babysitting schedule!”

“Think of it more like a hang-out schedule…”

“ _ Hang-out schedule? _ Do you know how ridiculously stupid you just sounded?”

“Yeah, I know.” Allison winces. “But I just meant—”

“We just want to spend some time with you,” Vanya interjects. 

Diego nods in agreement. “Sorry, Five, that’s just the way it is. Even if you’re a huge pain in the ass.”

“You’re our pain in the ass!” Klaus grins.

“But I—” Five tries to argue, although he looks conflicted. Vanya feels proud of herself; before their talk last night, Five most likely would have already jumped away from the debate, but not after tossing all of Allison’s hard work in the fire.

“It’s just a schedule of which one of us is supposed to look after you when, taking everyone’s individual schedules into account,” Allison states. “How you spend your time with that person, is negotiable and up to you. If you want to work on your equation during that time, that’s fine. If you want to take a break and stretch your legs or get some food or whatever else you might want to do, then you’ve got someone there looking out for you. It’s not meant to stop you from working or try and control you. We know you're not a child.”

“And we all know how important this is to you,” Vanya adds quietly.

“No one’s trying to stop you from getting back. I know you like your independence, and you feel like you need to always be working. At the very least, let someone be there to remind you to take breaks and eat and sleep and shower. Don’t look at me like that, you clearly have a hard time remembering to do it all on your own.”

Five frowns, but jumps back to his own seat and sits down. He glances at Vanya for a second and sighs. “Fine.”

“Great! Thank you, Five. Really. Also,” Allison looks sternly around the table, daring any one of them to argue with her, “pick a day, once a week, we will be having family game night.”

“Are you so sure that’s a good idea?” Luther asks quietly. “We can’t get through simple conversations without fighting.”

“ _ Yes. _ It’ll be good for us. Family bonding.”

Five opens his mouth to argue, but Vanya shoots him a look, shaking her head. It’s a little too reminiscent of the day he ran out, but at least this time Five shuts his mouth and doesn’t argue.

“This is halfway,” she whispers to him, watching Five’s scowl melt into resignation. “It’s just once a week.”

“Fine,” Five spits out. It’s a little louder than he might have intended, but it gets the rest of the table to stop growling and switch to hesitant nodding.

“Well, if Five’s on board…” Klaus says.

“Great!” Allison beams. “How about we start tonight, since Five’s not exactly heading to bed anytime soon.”

Diego groans, dropping his forehead down on the table. The conversation is quickly overtaken by Klaus and Luther bickering over game choices, with occasional comments from Five and Allison.

“How did I get stuck here?” Diego asks, lifting his head just enough to glance at Vanya for a brief moment.

Vanya hums softly, her gaze once again drifting to Five. Their little brother is frowning as Luther and Klaus talk over each other, trying (and failing) to explain  _ Uno _ to him. If he hadn’t agreed, game night would have been a bust, the chore chart would have been automatically rejected, and everyone would have drifted off in their own directions sooner rather than later. Dad’s death brought them together, but Five might actually stand a chance of keeping them that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh Five. this is certainly not what he had planned, but let your siblings love you goddamnit!


	7. November 13th, 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve seen you eat six raw eggs, Diego. Six. You have no room to talk.”
> 
> The table turns collectively to look at Diego in disgust. 
> 
> “Ew,” says Allison. “Six, Diego. Really? He was with you for less than a week.”
> 
> Diego flushes red, half with anger, half with embarrassment. “It’s a real thing!”
> 
> “A real thing that psychopaths do?”

Part of Allison’s big plans for family bonding apparently include not only dinners and game night, but the occasional family outing. The whole family. All of the Hargreeves. Out together. In public.

A recipe for disaster, really.

But Five had been shut down the moment he’d argued as much, and the next thing he knows, he’s buckled into the back of Diego’s car, Vanya sitting nervously beside him. The air is a bit tense, since Diego and Vanya still aren’t on the best of terms, and he still rarely speaks directly to her, choosing to be civil probably for Five’s sake, but it has to still at least be less chaotic than the other car—Allison, Luther, and Klaus together honestly sound like a recipe for disaster. Hopefully Allison can keep them calm so they don’t kill each other before they even reach their group bonding destination.

Five isn’t even sure where they’re going. He wasn’t paying attention when the others made the decision.

He shouldn’t be too surprised when they pull up at Griddy’s Donuts.

As kids, the Hargreeves weren’t overly diverse in terms of their sneak-out destinations. It was usually Griddy’s and sometimes the Super Star, depending on their mood. Everyone had to already be in a pretty good mood for the bowling alley to not end in murder, or at the very least a life-long ban. Even then, Luther and Diego couldn’t be allowed to play in the same lane.

But Griddy’s was their regular haunt, or as regular as they could achieve, being six kids sneaking out of their incredibly-strict household and evading not only their father and chimpanzee butler, but also a robot mom and more cameras than they ever bothered to count. Five would have to jump them out one at a time, until he desperately needed the sugar from the donuts just to stay on his feet. Honestly, the car ride is a nice change of pace. Also Vanya’s here this time, something Five’s been trying to accomplish for months. Ooh, when he goes back he’ll actually know exactly what kind of donut to bring back for her instead of taking a random shot in the dark and then sticking with it when she didn’t complain the first time. (He probably could have brought her a stack of napkins and Vanya would have thanked him for thinking of her.) That’ll be the first step, until he can finally convince her to come out with them.

They pile into one booth, which is significantly harder now that the rest of his siblings are so much bigger—Luther actually has to pull up a chair. Five sits on one side with Vanya and Allison, Klaus and Diego sit across from them. Klaus sticks his legs all up in Five’s foot space, initiating a rather aggressive kicking match that Diego has to break up after he gets caught in the crossfire.

“Children,” Allison chides with a sigh. “ _Behave._ ”

“What?” Klaus whines. “I’m just getting back in the good ole Griddy’s spirit. Vanya, you wouldn’t believe some of the fights we got into here.” Both Allison and Vanya look a little pale when Klaus brings up Vanya’s consistent childhood exclusion, but Klaus plows right on through the tension. He leans over towards her and stage whispers, “Luther and Five broke a table one time, arguing about sprinkles.”

Luther flushes red. “They’re stupid! They taste like nothing and they make a big mess!”

“Not true!” Five snaps back, slamming a fist on the table. “They taste good and they add to the texture!”

“I like sprinkles,” Vanya says quietly. Five points at her and grins in vindication.

“But why waste valuable topping space with sprinkles when you could add so many other, better things?” Klaus asks.

“I don’t like to get all my donuts with marshmallows,” Five says, folding his arms across his chest. “They make my mouth feel funny if I eat too many of them.”

“How many is too many?” Diego asks. “Are we talking, like, two-hundred? Three-hundred?”

“No.” Five scowls. “You know, I do eat other things.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I’ve seen you eat six raw eggs, Diego. _Six._ You have no room to talk.”

The table turns collectively to look at Diego in disgust.

“Ew,” says Allison. “Six, Diego. Really? He was with you for less than a week.”

Diego flushes red, half with anger, half with embarrassment. “It’s a real thing!”

“A real thing that psychopaths do?” Klaus asks, a single eyebrow shooting up into his hairline.

“ _No._ It’s a boxing thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re right,” Allison says, shaking her head in disgust. “I most certainly do not understand.”

“I’m thinking Diego should be removed from the Five-sitting schedule,” Vanya adds, grinning impishly.

“Don’t call it that,” Five grumbles. “I’m not a baby.”

“That’s why I didn’t say _baby_ sitting schedule.”

“You implied it.”

Vanya purses her lips to try and hide her smile. “I did imply it.”

“Why did I ever agree to this?”

“Because you loooooove us!” Klaus grins, leaning way into Five’s personal space.

“I do not. I barely tolerate you. I’m only here because I like donuts almost as much as I enjoy doing math. It has nothing to do with any of you.”

“Five loves us,” Klaus chants, pumping his fists. “Five loves us!”

“Five loves us,” the others slowly join in his chant, first Diego, then Allison, then Vanya, and finally Luther. “Five loves us, Five loves us, Five loves us!”

Five glares. “Whatever.

The waitress, a bubbly woman whose name tag reads _Agnes,_ telling Five that she’s the same woman from their 2002 visits, comes to take their order. They’re probably food services’ worst nightmare, seeing as they all order at least two different donuts. Agnes has to stop Allison in the middle of her order so she can pull out a notepad to record everything.

Five orders his usual S’mores as well a couple other new ones that must have been added to the menu at some point. Diego chides him for spoiling his dinner, but Five doesn’t care. He’s got sixteen years worth of donut eating to make up for and a lot of new flavors to try.

He pays careful attention to Vanya’s order, only to be shocked when she orders chocolate with sprinkles, just like he always brings her. She blushes when she catches him staring, shrugging and looking away.

“Is it weird being back here?” Allison asks Five.

He shrugs. “It hasn’t really changed too much. I’m excited to try these new donuts though.”

“Me too,” Allison says. “It’s been a while for most of us too.”

Five hums in response, gazing around the diner.

“So, does anyone have any suggestions for next week’s game night?” Allison asks the whole table.

“Yahtzee,” Diego says, grinning.

“No,” says Luther. “No games with dice. You cheat.”

“I do not! I’m just lucky I guess.”

“There’s too many games that involve dice to completely rule them out, Luther,” Allison says. “It’s not realistic.”

“Well, we can’t play Uno again, either,” Five says, remembering what will now be known simply as the Draw-Four Incident. “Allison almost lost an eye.”

“But she didn’t!” Diego snaps.

Agnes reappears, setting down six plates full of donuts, all miraculously in front of all the right people. Klaus doesn’t hesitate to dig in and Five is right behind him. They’re even better than he remembers. Either Agnes tweaked the recipe or Five’s actually feeling nostalgic for about five months ago. He usually surprises himself with how sentimental he can be.

Anyway, for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t feel too much like a fish out of water. This is something he recognizes: his siblings’ bickering and banter around a table full of junk food. They might look a bit different, but they still argue over the same petty things, and still laugh the same way they did as kids—Luther’s is booming while Diego and Allison have wicked-sharp cackles and Klaus is bubbly and so very real and Vanya is hesitant but bright. He sees now that there’s so much of them that hasn’t really changed all that much.

And maybe some of that isn’t a good thing—Luther is still painfully loyal to Dad, even now that he’s dad, Diego only really knows how to deal in anger, Klaus’s problems have only grown, and Vanya still seems hesitant to interact with her own family—but it’s okay. They’ll get the chance to fix themselves. Five plans to make sure of it.

For now, he can just take the time to enjoy the good similarities. That’s a luxury he thinks he can allow himself. Even if he’s too scared to get too attached to these versions of his siblings, he knows realistically that that might be an impossible task. If Vanya and the others are going to insist that he spend time with them because they missed him or whatever, he’s just going to have to focus on the stuff that he loves about them across all time periods. It’s safe.

And Vanya’s probably right. It’s good for him to get out of his own head and enjoy himself a little bit, or all the math will make him go nuts.

So he laughs right along with his family, everything just like it used to be, and by the time Five chomps down on his third donut, he realizes suddenly that his face hurts for some reason.

It must be all the smiling, he realizes with a start. He hasn’t smiled quite this much in… well, possibly ever. There was only so much smiling you could do during your thirty minutes of loosely-structured free time.

He’s actually enjoyed spending the day with his siblings and felt only fleeting bursts of desire to murder some of them. Maybe it’s because they’re finally all together and free from Dad.

And that’s when it all comes crashing down, some invisible force knocking the wind out of Five’s chest and making the donut taste stale and flavorless in his mouth. That shouldn’t have been possible, not with its four different candy toppings.

He was doing so well, letting himself be happy, trying to make the best of a complicated situation. And his stupid brain had to go and ruin everything.

The problem is, not all of his siblings are here. He’s finally got Vanya here, got her actually included—but there’s still only six of them. There’s only six because Ben isn’t here.

Because Ben is dead.

And Five’s been working so hard to get home, and he’s going to save Ben. He _knows_ that. He’s going to save his brother, no matter what.

It’s just… right now, with the whole rest of his family right here, happier and more functional than they’ve been in years, he misses Ben so much that it aches deep in his chest.

Ben would have been so happy to see them all getting along. He hated conflict.

All of a sudden, everything is too much. Five feels crowded, his vision blurring at the edges. It hurts simply to breathe, but it’s agony when Allison laughs loudly, accidentally elbowing Five in the side in her exuberance. It takes every ounce of his strength to keep from jumping away from the diner. It would only make his siblings panic.

He barely hears the rest of the conversation, just feels the flood of relief when the bill finally comes and they drive back to the mansion. Five has never been happier with Diego’s incessant need to push the speed limit as far as he can because the normally-short drive already seems agonizingly long.

He jumps the moment they park the car, which isn’t too out of the ordinary. What isn’t normal though is the fact that Five, who’s always so precise, so calculating, has not destination in mind. He ends up landing in some old, abandoned training room, and then proceeds to jump away again. That’s not really where he wants to be at the moment. He lands at Grace’s charging station.

He jumps again, Ben’s room, which makes his stomach churn dangerously in just the single second he spends there.

Again, his own room.

Again, the kitchen, startling Klaus.

Again, and this time he lands out in the courtyard, Ben’s statue staring back at him.

Five falls backwards, landing painfully on his butt, unable to tear his eyes away from the statue. His hands scratch at the dirty concrete until he comes to a rest, hugging his knees to his chest as tight as he can, as if he can squeeze tight enough to push away his grief.

He sits there, frozen and tired, and he stares and stares and stares, until Ben is nothing more than a dark blur in his vision.

 

* * *

 

Klaus has never really been one for planning or trying to organize his life, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel a bit giddy every time he sees his name on the time slot for babysitting their littlest brother. Five, even when lately he’s been little more than an angsty workaholic, is still an adorable little gremlin, and Klaus loves spending time with him, even if Five likes to _pretend_ that he has other things he’d much rather be doing.

But now, right as Klaus’s shift starts, Five is nowhere to be found.

Klaus isn’t too bothered; it’s not unlike Five to jump away and go do his own thing for a little while. He’ll go visit the little munchkin up in his room in a little while. He’s thinking he’ll go grab himself a snack.

“Really?” Ben says, rolling his eyes. “You’re eating? Right now? How do you have any room left after eating four donuts?”

“Donuts don’t count as real food, Benny boy! And since we’re living here for a while, we might as well take advantage of Mom’s fully stocked pantry!”

“Well, it’s better than some of the meals I’ve seen you have. Isn’t real food better than pills for lunch?”

“Drop dead.”

“Low blow.”

Klaus shrugs, rummaging through the cabinets. He glances at the jar of peanut butter on the shelf. “Do you think the little brat will want a sandwich?”

“No, because he eats like a normal person.”

Klaus pauses, glancing over his shoulder to stare at his ghostly brother, an eyebrow raised.

Ben bobs his head side to side. “Okay, maybe not, but he’s been doing better lately. Hey, do you think he’d want to see a movie?”

“Stop trying to use our little brother to get me to take you wherever you want to go.”

“I’m not!”

“Oh, you so are! You didn’t used to be this conniving, you know. Being dead has really—Christ on a cracker!”

He damn near jumps out of his skin when Five appears in a flash of blue. Klaus meets his eyes for just a split second before he’s gone again.

“What was that about?” Ben asks.

“He’s probably just… training. Getting in a good workout, yeah?”

“Maybe… Klaus, I think you should go check on him.”

“Why? He’s doing his own thing. He’s a big boy.”

“Didn’t you see him at the diner though? Something’s wrong.”

“He was probably just thinking about math again.”

“Klaus…”

“Yeah, alright. Quit nagging. God, you’re the worst.”

When finally finds Five, the kid is sitting out in the courtyard with his knees tucked under his chin, staring at Ben’s statue.

“Oh,” Ben says, and Klaus has to agree because the sight breaks his heart just a little bit.

“Hey, buddy,” he says as he approaches, not wanting to startle the kid.

“Hey,” Five replies, not lifting his chin or tearing his eyes from the statue. Klaus plops down next to him on the ground.

He watches Ben’s ghost settle on Five’s other side, looking down at their little brother sadly. He reaches for Five and gently rests his hand on top of Five’s, as if he could offer the physical comfort Klaus knows Ben so desperately longs to provide. Of course, Five doesn’t feel a thing, and even though Klaus knows Ben was expecting as much, he still looks absolutely devastated.

“What are you doing out here?”

Five shrugs.

“Alright, you don’t want to chat. That’s fine. I get it. We can just sit here.”

“You don’t have to stay, Klaus. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I know,” Klaus says. “I just thought you could use some company.”

“I’m fine,” Five snaps.

“You have to help him, Klaus,” Ben says. Klaus looks over to see Five’s eyes wet and shining despite his scowl.

“Alright,” Klaus concedes. “Maybe I just want to sit out here. It’s such nice weather.” It’s really not, considering it’s November, and Klaus actually really wishes he were wearing a shirt under his jacket. Five at least is bundled up—it’s not an actual jacket, just a hoodie, but Klaus thinks it belongs to Diego because it’s big enough for him to practically disappear inside of.

Five scoffs but doesn’t say anything else, so Klaus takes it as a win.

“I just wish I could talk to him,” Ben says. “I know it’s silly, because he’s right there, but I really miss him.”

Klaus frowns and worries at his lip, glancing back and forth between his two depressing brothers. Ben and Five had been so close as kids, and Klaus had already watched Ben mourn Five after his disappearance. Now, he was watching Five do the same for Ben. Neither of them had gotten the chance to say goodbye.

But what if they didn’t have to? It just depends on if Five is willing to believe in him—and maybe he is. After all, he missed a big chunk of some Klaus’s more major screw ups. It’s quite possible that Five is the last living member of this family to remember that Klaus’s whole thing is talking to the dead.

“Do you miss him?” Klaus blurts out and earns a scowl from both Five and Ben.

“Dude…” Ben admonishes.

“Of course I do,” Five snaps at the same time.

“What if…” He looks over to meet Ben’s eyes and his ghostly brother suddenly lights up.

Ben nods enthusiastically. “You should tell him, Klaus. Please.”

“What if you could talk to him?”

Five blinks, his scowl dissolving. “You can… Can you do that?”

Klaus snorts. “I can’t get the asshole to go away.”

Ben glares at him again, but Five just stares at him with wide eyes. “He’s… He’s here? Right now?” Five’s head whips around, as if he could locate Ben himself.

Klaus nods. “Yeah, bud. Right on your other side. He can hear you, but I can… I can translate for him, if you want.”

Five’s growing smile drops in an instant, returning to his default scowl. “I’m not going to talk to empty air while you make up responses, Klaus. If you think this is some sort of therapy—”

“I’m not lying,” Klaus says quickly. “He’s really here. He’s here, Five. Quick, Ben, tell me something only you and Five would know.”

“Oh, um… Okay, remember when someone replaced Luther’s shampoo with purple hair dye?”

“Yeah…”

“Well that was me. And Five, but mostly me. It was Five’s idea, but I’m the one that actually did it.”

“You guys dyed Luther’s hair? He still blames me!”

“Wait,” Five says, staring at Klaus with wide, round eyes. “He really told you that? Just now?”

“Yes. You need to tell Luther! Five, you gotta clear my name!”

“No way,” Five snorts. “Now, let me talk to Ben.”

“Once you promise to clear my name!”

“Klaus!” Ben glares at him.

“Alright. Fine. Five, Ben, say whatever you want. I’ll play translator.”

Five nods eagerly. “Can he… He can hear me, right?”

“Yep. Go ahead and speak from the heart, kiddo.”

“Right. Ben, I… I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

Ben’s expression turns soft and sad. “Oh, Five. It’s okay. I… I missed you, but I’m glad I get to see you now.”

Klaus relays Ben’s half of the conversation, pointing to where Ben is so Five will stop searching the empty air for nothing. It’s just depressing.

“I’m sorry,” Five says. “I didn’t mean to get stuck.”

“I know,” Ben smiles gently. “Klaus, give him a hug for me.”

“But what if he breaks my arms?” Klaus whines.

Ben rolls his eyes. “Stop being a big baby and do it. Hug him for me.”

“Fine.” Klaus turns back to Five. “Ben says I have to do this, so don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Wha—”

Klaus wraps his spindly arms all the way around Five as the kid sputters and protests, but Klaus has got him trapped.

“Shh, shh.” He strokes Five’s hair in a way that’s more strange and awkward than soothing. “Let it happen. This is for Ben. Just let it happen.”

“Does Ben play the dead card often?” Five grumbles.

“Yes! Yes, he does. It’s so annoying!”

“You have no place to call _me_ annoying, Klaus,” Ben says with a half-hearted glare.

“I don’t feel like _Ben_ is the annoying one in all this,” Five says at almost exactly the same time.

Klaus gasps dramatically. “Two minutes in and you’re already ganging up on me!”

“Well, you make it too easy,” Five says with a short laugh.

“So, I’m on Five duty tonight, and we all know what happened last time I tried to cook, so how about we go out for dinner? Just the three of us. It’ll be fun. You can chat Ben’s incorporeal ears off until we scare away our waitress and get kicked out for being crazy people. How does that sound?”

“Alright. Where does Ben want to go?” Five asks.

“Ben can’t eat.”

“But he can go places can’t he? And I didn’t ask what he wanted to eat, I asked where he wanted to go. Big difference.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I know,” Ben says, grinning from ear to ear. “Five is my new favorite sibling.”

Klaus glares and refuses to relay _that_ particular message but Five grins like he somehow heard it anyway.

“This,” Klaus says, waving back and forth between Five and Ben, “was clearly all a big mistake.”

“It was not,” Ben says, watching Five try and suppress his smile enough to put on a proper fake-pout. “Thank you, Klaus. Really.”

“Yeah, yeah. You owe me, so _I_ get to choose where we go for dinner.”

“Why on earth would I care where we go?”

“Because… Shut up, Ben! Five is my new favorite brother.”

“You were _just_ complaining about him!”

“Hell yeah I am!” Five crows at the same time. “But Ben’s still mine, sorry Klaus.”

“Ha!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five: I have to be very careful. I don't want to get attached to my adult siblings  
> Also Five, after seeing Vanya's Sad Face and reluctantly spending ten minutes with these idiots: Okay, so step one was a fucking failure
> 
> \--
> 
> I've been plotting this whole thing out and it's going to be loooong, so pls come chat with me in the comments and help keep me inspired! Now that it's summer, I have time to actually chat and I'm so excited bc i love all you lovely readers :)


	8. November 16th, 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know what you mean. When I was on the moon—”
> 
> “Wait what?” Five whips around to stare at Luther, his eyes wide. “You were on the moon? Like the actual moon? In space?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Luther is a really interesting character, but boy is it hard to write from his pov, especially considering that he's a slightly unreliable narrator since he sees everything the way Reggie conditioned him to

Luther doesn’t actually remember the day Five ran out very well. 

The thing is, it started like such a normal day. Talking at mealtime was unheard of, and running out of the Academy was certainly unprecedented, but Five arguing with Dad? Talking back? That was an everyday occurrence. 

So no, Luther didn’t think to pay too much attention to it at the time. It was just Five taking it up another notch when his ordinary rebellion stopped getting the results he wanted.

What he does remember, is waking up the next morning to the knowledge that Five hadn’t come home.

Luther had immediately wanted to go looking for him, had asked their father if that would be their next mission. He’d been so sure Dad would say yes. 

But he didn’t. No one went looking for Five. 

Not that they didn’t want to, but Dad had thought it would be a waste. Five was smart and well-trained—if he wanted to come back, he would. And Luther had figured just as well.

Five was a big personality in his thirteen years. His disappearance left a gaping hole in all of their lives. Luther caught himself on missions, automatically turning to give Five some orders for him to inevitably ignore, only to have to choke the words back down when he remembered the glaringly empty space between Four and Six. He finally stopped doing it after a few months—it didn’t reflect well upon the team for their leader to not know its members. They had to be a well-oiled machine, even when missing a piece, and it was Luther’s job to ensure they kept on running just as well as they always had.

Luther had missed his brother, but he’d also resented him.

Why couldn’t Five have just listened to Dad, for once in his life? Why did he always have to think he knew better?

He’d messed up the team, and it would never be the same again—Five had been the first to go, the first step towards the great Umbrella Academy unravelling at its seams. 

And so yeah, Luther did hope that Five was safe out there, wherever he was, all on his own, but there were days where he had a hard time not feeling more bitter than sad. Five had abandoned them, all because of his own hubris. He’d messed up the team, because he thought he knew better than Dad. If he hadn’t been such an ass, maybe nothing would have fallen apart. 

Maybe they would have been a better team. Maybe the others would have stayed too.

Maybe Luther should have worked harder to try and keep his ego in check.

But now that Luther’s twenty-nine years old and seeing Five in a completely different light, he can see how ridiculous it was for him to think that Five would truly run away, that he would actually leave them behind.

He’s not blinded by rivalry anymore, because yes, maybe Diego had been the main brother who was always scheming and working to one-up Luther, but Five pushed himself just as hard, always trying to earn Dad’s favor, needing to be the best and wanting all of them to know it.

Luther had always seen a Five who was big and bold, loud and contrary and unafraid. 

Now, Five is unbelievably small, and—Five would try and kill him for saying it but—fragile. Maybe it was because Five was still thirteen, maybe it was because of this hulking body Luther has now, but Five is tiny. And young.

Luther doesn’t ever remember being as young as Five.

There’s something uneasy in his stomach every time he looks at Five. At first he’d thought it was guilt from all those years of resenting his brother for something he now knows was _not_ abandonment, but now he’s not quite sure that’s it. He can’t put his finger on it—all he knows is that this new perspective yields something wildly different than his memories from sixteen years ago.

And he knows that he wants nothing more than to protect his brother from anything the world might hurl his way.

As a child and a leader and a brother, Luther had wanted nothing more than to protect his family—or at least, to see them strong enough to protect themselves. He wanted to make sure they trained to their fullest capacity, listened to Dad’s advice. He wanted them to be safe.

It’s a wildly different feeling when he looks at Five now and just wants to wrap him up in blankets and watch all the old movies his brother missed and eat all his favorite foods, as unhealthy and disgusting as they are. 

It’s so ridiculous and misplaced that Luther honestly has no idea how to handle himself. 

He tries his hardest to arrange his time with Five so that Allison is also there—she’s a mom who knows a thing or two about this sort of stuff and she won’t infuriate or pick a fight with Luther in front of Five, who doesn’t want the kid to see him like that anymore. 

(He doesn’t know why, but the funeral fight still made him embarrassed and ashamed. Five’s first day seeing Luther again and he just had to go and show him how horribly everything fell apart and how Luther had failed to hold it together.)

Diego had fallen so naturally into the role of protective big brother, and Luther still feels so lost around Five. They might have all been born on the same day, but they’d all still had an unspoken habit of thinking of their ages almost in order of their numbers. Luther  _ should _ be the big brother. It's the role he’s always wanted to play, but…

Now he can see he’s done a pretty crappy job of it. He can’t even be a proper big brother when he has an actual little brother right in front of him. 

Has he always been this bad at this stuff?

He watches Allison, the actual mother, and how she deals with Five, as if he can learn how to handle this simply through the power of observation. He lets Allison take the lead, understanding that this is not his area of expertise. And it works. They even have a few pretty enjoyable times together, like when they laughed their way through one of Allison’s sorta shitty movies from her early days in the acting business.

But then Allison leaves, just for a few days. She has some stuff to take care of with her lawyer and Patrick and Claire back in L.A. It’s unplanned and sudden and leaves Luther alone with Five for the first time since his return. He tries to track down one of his other siblings, but they’re all out or busy.

_ “You’ll be fine, Luther” _ Allison voice drifts through the phone. She sounds frazzled.  _ “Five isn’t difficult. Well, he is, but not like that. He’s thirteen, not three, and he mostly does his own thing. Just try not to let him self-destruct. Keep him entertained if he needs a break. That’s about it, really.” _

“I don’t—”

_ “I’m really sorry, Luth, but I gotta go. You’ll be fine. I’ll see you when I get back.” _

“Yeah, alright. Good luck.”

_ “Thanks. Bye.” _

Luther sighs, then sucks in a deep breath before knocking on Five’s door.

“Five? It’s lunchtime.”

For a moment, there’s no response, then, “Yeah, alright. Be out in a minute. Just need to finish one last…” He trails off in favor of returning to his scribbling.

“Alright,” Luther mumbles, stuffing his hands in his pockets and leaning awkwardly against the wall to wait for Five. 

He takes a lot longer than a minute to finish up and Luther is just about to knock again when Five appears. “Ready?”

“Well, uh, I’ve actually been ready so…”

Five rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry I made you wait a couple extra minutes while I was busy figuring out the inner workings of spacetime.”

“Did you figure something out?”

Five scowls, his expression all but daring Luther to question his intelligence. “I’m still working on it.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry. I was just asking. Come on. Mom made pasta.”

Five jumps away before he finishes his statement and Luther sighs. It’s going to be a long day.

Five is halfway through his plate of pasta by the time Luther gets to the table, but Mom beats him to the punch chiding Five to slow down. 

Five does, just slightly, but continues to chug his glass of water. He frowns, rubbing his forehead with his fingers in obvious discomfort.

“Headache?” Luther asks. Mom, ever so perceptive, appears to drop a couple ibuprofen beside his plate. 

Five swallows them down in one gulp, nodding at Luther’s question. “Yeah. Staring at numbers all day long can be a bit of a pain.”

“I know what you mean. When I was on the moon—”

“Wait what?” Five whips around to stare at Luther, his eyes wide. “You were on the moon? Like the actual moon? In  _ space? _ ”

Luther can’t help but chuckle at the excited-puppy-look Five’s got going on all of a sudden. “Yeah, yeah. For about four years. Dad had me doing research, collecting samples—”

“What for? Aliens? Is this an alien thing? Because I actually think Dad might be an alien himself, so if he sent you out to look for other aliens—”

“No, no, no. Not aliens. At least, I didn’t encounter any aliens…” Luther trails off with a thoughtful frown. “But he did have me watching for threats to Earth so…”

“Aliens,” Five says with a sharp nod. Then he grins, wide. “I can’t believe you were looking for aliens!”

“Not in so many words, but sure. Mostly I just gathered data,” Luther admits. “A lot of data.”

“So, what was the coolest part?” 

Five is literally on the edge of his seat, all of his attention and excitement focused on Luther. 

He shouldn’t actually be too surprised; Five has always been into science. Way back when they were both kids, Luther and Five had actually shared that particular interest, back before their specific interests diverged. When they were little, maybe five, six, seven, they would take anything they could get their hands on. Their father had loved it, giving them all the books they could ever dream of on biology and physics and geology and astronomy and chemistry. They ate it all up, reading as fast as they could and then trading books so they could talk about them when they were both done. 

That’s what they shared: their love of science. And they would stay up past their bedtime, Five jumping into Luther’s room late at night to excitedly show him something he’d read in one of his books, just because he’d thought Luther would find it just as fascinating as he did. They had their own inside jokes—silly little things that were so ridiculous when he looked back on them in his faded memory, but still made his chest swell and warm with nostalgia. Diego and Klaus would run by, teasing and calling them both nerds for spending their thirty minutes of free time a week in the library talking.

This was back before Five had become so dedicated to his powers, and had pushed everything else on the backburner to make way for quantum physics and complex math that hurt Luther’s head to try his hand at for too long. Back before Five realized he was smarter than all of them, and decided to fight tooth and nail for the rest of them to see it too, and rub it in their faces if they didn’t outright admit it. Back before Five stopped bringing his observations to Luther and Luther stopped trying to bring his to Five, because Five had started rolling his eyes and maintaining that unimpressed scowl of his. Back before Five’s rebellion and ego had left them no choice but to drift apart.

He’s always wondered if Five remembers those days. He’s had to, right? But maybe they didn’t mean as much to him as they did to Luther. Maybe what Five would eventually find with Ben and Vanya meant more to him than those silly childhood discussions he’d had with Luther. 

But now, Luther is thrown right back into those early memories, with Five hanging onto his every word. Maybe he actually can handle this without Allison.

“I sent all the data back down,” Luther says. “Dad had it. I’m sure it’s still around here somewhere.”

“We can find it,” Five says, jumping up and practically bouncing on his toes. “Let’s go find it!  _ C’mon, _ Luther.”

Luther actually laughs, allowing Five to lead him up towards Dad’s study, the rest of their lunch forgotten in favor of space rocks.  He doesn’t remember Five being this childlike. It’s funny how much time has changed his perspective.

With a bit of help from Pogo, they manage to track down everything Luther had sent back. Five is practically vibrating with excitement, there’s just one problem…

“It’s… it’s all still sealed,” Luther mumbles, staring as he dig through package after package, just to find them all untouched and collecting dust. “He didn’t open… anything.”

Five squats next to him, frowning harshly. “Well that’s stupid.”

“I was up there for  _ four years, _ ” Luther growls, standing up and throwing down the packet he was holding. “For—for nothing? He said it was important. He said it was to  _ save the world. _ ”

“Yeah well, Dad was an asshat,” Five says simply. He kicks at one of the still-sealed packages as if it’s personally offended him. “And a complete and total  _ idiot. _ There’s so much here! There’s gotta be some breakthrough discovery waiting somewhere in here. Wow, just when I thought the old man couldn't get any stupider.”

“But… I don’t understand.” Luther sits down hard next to Five. He feels lost, dizzy, his whole world turned on its head. “Why… why would he send up there for nothing? Was I not good enough?”

Five actually snorts at that. “ _ None _ of us were ever good enough, Luther. That’s just the way is was with Dad.”

“But… What about you?  _ Be more like Five, he adapted.  _ He… he was proud of  _ you. _ ”

“He was not.” Five isn’t exactly comforting in his tone, but the deep-set frown and sharp lines of anger painted across his face display his true feelings about the matter. Five is pissed, so easily jumping on the righteous anger he carries deep inside of him, anger on Luther’s behalf. “He liked my powers,” he continues with a snort. “Thought they were useful. And I was still never good enough. None of us will ever be good enough for that man. You’ve always tried so hard, Luther, and I’m sorry, but it was never going to work. He never cared about us, not really. I… I’m sorry you had to find out like this though. It’s shitty. Dad’s shitty. He’s so, so… shitty. Sorry, I couldn’t think of a more creative insult. Oh! Asshat. No, wait, I already used that one. Motherfucking shit head! There we go.”

Luther almost opens his mouth to retort, to defend their father, but the words lodge in his throat, sharp and painful. 

Instead, the words that come out are sad and pitiful. “He thought I was so useless that he had to ship me all the way to the fucking moon on some wild goose chase.”

“I… I know I’m probably not the best one to be here for you right now,” Five says, his voice soft and more sad now than angry. “But I know you probably need to hear it, and I guess I’m the only one around to say it: you mean more to us than Dad’s opinion of you. You’re our brother, and we care about  _ you. _ ”

Five says those words,  _ You’re our brother, _ like they explain everything in the world. Five’s always been that way—his opinion is fact, and everyone should and  _ does _ think exactly what he thinks. He’s just so sure of himself like that. 

And one thing is abundantly clear: to Five, they are a family, no matter what’s happened these past sixteen years. Maybe it’s because Five comes from a time back when they were still close, or maybe Five just really thinks that way. Luther is his brother, and he always will be, even in the face of this gigantic  _ failure. _

Five bumps his arm with his tiny little shoulder. “I'm about tapped out on this comfort thing, but  I still want to see all the data you gathered though. If you’re feeling up for it. And we both know I’m not stupid like Dad.”

He’s not really feeling up for it. He wants to cry or maybe get drunk or maybe both. Definitely both. But Five is right there, small and impressionable and Luther doesn’t want his little brother to see him that way. That’s not what a good big brother would do.

And Five… Five seems genuinely interested. Luther knows that face well; Five isn’t just faking interest to preserve Luther’s currently-fragile feelings. 

So he’ll probably have a breakdown later—a massive one if the pounding in his chest and the itching behind his eyes are any indication—but for now, he has someone by his side who actually wants to hear about his work. It’s not exactly the person he wanted to share all this with, but it’s… something.

Hesitantly, Luther leans over Five’s shoulder and watches as he tears open one of the packages.

“Right,” Luther coughs awkwardly, trying to clear the massive lump in his throat. “So this right here is all information on temperature.”

Five nods along, skimming the numbers for himself and asking the occasional question or pointing out stuff he finds interesting. Luther finds himself getting lost in the discussion. Five really is a little genius, and his eyes light up every time he makes a realization.

Eventually, eager to see more, Five grabs another package and tears it open, emptying its contents into the space between him and Luther. A familiar-looking piece of paper flutters to the ground and Luther snatches it away before Five can read it.

“Hey!” Five whines. “What is that?” His eyes narrow dangerously. “Luther Hargreeves, what are you hiding?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Five turns over the package, reading the label again. “ _ New poem inspired by comet? _ ” he reads, eyebrow shooting up. “Luther, is that a… poem? About a comet? That you think you can hide from me?”

“No…”

“You have to show me.” Five grins wickedly. “Come on, Luth, you can’t keep this from me.”

“I can and I will.”

“Pleeeeeease?” Five juts out his bottom lip and blinks his eyes rapidly in a goofy caricature of puppy dog eyes.

“No,” Luther says, actually biting his lip to stop from laughing. He crumples up his poem (it’s not his best work, really) and shoves it in the pocket of his overcoat.

Five scowls. “Fine. Be that way. I wouldn’t have laughed.”

“You absolutely would have.”

“You’re right. I would have. You know, this is just going to make my imagination run wild…”

“I don’t care. You’re still not seeing it.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “I’ll get my hands on it eventually. I’m sneaky like that.”

Luther has no doubt about that particular fact, but he actually finds himself not really caring. This feels like he has his brother back. This feels like family, with the teasing and the banter and Five’s elbow tickling his ribs, like this is what he’s been missing these past years alone.

It might take some time, seeing as everything he’s ever worked for has just been shattered, and he’s certainly bound to make some bad decisions as soon as Five is out of the room and safely under someone else’s guidance, but he feels like he just might be okay. Eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Luther's definitely going to have a breakdown the moment Five's not in the room. He's just learned that he spent four years alone on the moon for nothing... yikes :(
> 
>  
> 
> I used to hate Luther but somewhere over the past couple months I accidentally started to actually love him. I just think he's a really interesting character with potential to grow and develop in a really cool way.
> 
> (Also, in canon Luther wrote and sent back poetry about the stuff he saw on the moon (you can see it in a screenshot that i'm too lazy to find sorry) what a dork)


	9. November 20th, 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego flops down on the floor beside Five and grabs a book off the top of the nearest pile.  
> “You’re not going to find that very interesting,” Five murmurs distractedly, turning another page of his own book.  
> “Shut up, Five. You don’t know.”  
> “I know everything.”

“You need to get out of the house more.”

Five barely glances up when Diego throws himself dramatically down on the couch next to him, propping his feet up on the coffee table and tucking his hands behind his head.

“No thanks,” Five mutters, turning the page of his book. 

“You went with Klaus to the pet store two days ago!”

“Yep. Sure did.”

“So you just don’t want to hang out with me, is that it?”

“Yep.”

“Well, that’s too bad!” Diego fumes. “I’m in charge right now.”

Honestly, Diego is  _ bored. _ He didn’t know it was possible to be bored in this family, but somehow he’s managed it. Luther’s having a bit of an admittedly long-overdue crisis at the moment, so even if Diego wanted to try and get a rise out of good ole Number One, he can’t manage to track the guy down for very long. Klaus is always either wonderfully entertaining or maddeningly frustrating, so it’s a toss of the dice with him—of course he’s in and out still, although Five’s presence has kept their junkie brother within a slightly smaller radius of the Academy. You couldn’t pay Diego to willingly hang out alone with Vanya, and Allison is busy with her own (and Luther’s honestly) problems.

So that leaves Five, and Diego’s itching to spend more time with his baby brother anyway.

“You’re not in charge,” Five grits out. Good. Nothing like a little irritation to get his brother’s nose out of his book.

“I am, according to Allison’s  _ babysitting chart. _ ”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Diego!”

He grins and reaches over to ruffle Five’s hair, only to met by a yelp and a harsh smack from his little brother. “I’m just messing with you. It’s fun to get you all riled up!”

“Well, stop it! I have more important things to do.”

“Nah. I’m bored, Five, so my plan is to just sit here and bug you until you do something with me. Just one tiny thing, and then you can get back to work.”

“Fine.” Five snaps his book shut. “Take me to the library.”

Diego groans. “You want  _ more _ books?”

“You wanted to spend time with me,” Five growls. “This is what I want to do.”

“Fine, fine. Whatever.”

“It closes in three hours.” How does Five even know the public library's hours off the top of his head?

Oh yeah. He was living there. Like a dumbass.

Diego rolls his eyes. “That’s plenty of time.”

“ _ Let’s go, Diego. _ ”

“Alright!” 

He fishes his keys out of his pocket while Five grins smugly before disappearing in a swirl of blue. Diego grumbles to himself as he follows his brother out to his car.

 

The library is huge and Diego loses Five almost instantly. The kid doesn’t even have to jump away from him; it’s just that big and Five is a man on a mission. Also, he’s not very tall.

Diego eventually finds him, nearly forty minutes later, sitting amongst the shelves and surrounded by piles of books he’d pulled off various shelves. A librarian walks by and shoots him an odd look, but doesn’t interact. It’s possible Five has already scared off anyone who might get in the way of his studying.

“You got what you came for, bud?” he asks.

Five doesn’t look up, just hums absently in response.

“Alright, I’ll help you carry all this shit down to check out.”

Five shushes him loudly. “Zip it. I’m reading.”

“Come on, Five…” Diego taps his foot rapidly, beginning to grow impatient.

“ _ I’m reading, _ ” Five repeats, irritated now. “If you want to leave, leave. I’m not ready to go yet.”

“No, if I leave you here, you’re just going to try and jump home.”

“That’s correct.”

“It’s dangerous!”

Five rolls his eyes. “It’s no big deal. Three baby jumps and I’ll be back at the Academy doors. I know my own powers.”

Diego barely manages to choke down his rebuttal about how if Five really knew his powers, then he wouldn’t be here right now. He knows that won’t go over well, and although they’re bound to have a blow up at some point, he would really rather not do it in this fancy-schmancy library where a little old lady keeps giving him the worst side eye.

With a loud groan, Diego flops down on the floor beside Five and grabs a book off the top of the nearest pile.

“You’re not going to find that very interesting,” Five murmurs distractedly, turning another page of his own book.

“Shut up, Five. You don’t know.”

“I know everything.”

He does not enjoy it at all, but keeps reading out of pure spite.

 

Five won’t budge until a grumpy-looking woman comes by to tell them that the library is closing in ten minutes. It then becomes Diego’s job to cart Five’s books downstairs so he can take them home.

They get to the front desk, where Five, Diego, and the librarian all look at each other expectantly long enough for everyone to start feeling pretty damn stupid.

“Library card?” the librarian finally asks and Diego blinks, realizing Five expects him to check all this stuff out.

“I don’t have one,” he says dumbly.

“If you have some ID, you can get one now,” the librarian says. She looks back and forth between the two of them with an arched eyebrow.

“I don’t have an ID,” Five says slowly, “because I’m pretty sure I’m legally dead. Diego, you drove us here so I’m hoping you’ve got something?”

Diego grabs his wallet, pulling out his driver’s license. “Wait, if I get this library card, does that mean they’re going to fine  _ me _ if you’re late returning this shit?”

“Yep,” Five says. He’s already opened one of the books, balancing it precariously atop his massive pile. “And I’m going to be late on purpose.”

“You’re a piece of shit, you know that, Five?” Diego grumbles as he walks over to sign up for a card. “The things I do for this goddamn family.”

Five  _ continues _ reading on the drive home, squinting at the pages by the fleeting light of stop lights and street lamps, ignoring all of Diego’s pitiful attempts to get a conversation out of him. Maybe the silence is better than hearing him rant about quantum physics and then making jabs at Diego when he doesn’t understand a damn thing the kid is saying. But—and Diego won’t ever say it out loud—he is happy Five is actually here to annoy him. It’s a lot better than wondering where he is, or if he’s even alive. Diego will let Five call him an idiot a thousand times over if it means he gets to hear his brother’s voice.

“You think you got enough books?” Diego asks, glancing over in irritation when the pile in the center console slides, one of the corners jabbing at his thigh.

“No,” Five grumbles. “Unfortunately, I’ll probably need more. Time travel is more complicated than you could ever imagine, and everyone else can only talk about it in hypotheticals. It’s a lot of work to pick out the useful stuff among pages and pages of bullshit.”

“Don’t all these people have, like, doctorates and shit?”

“Well, apparently, they’ll just hand out doctorates to anyone.”

“Do you think you’ll try and get one?”

Five shrugs. “Never gave it much thought. Probably not. I’ve got other stuff to do, you know? When I get back, everything will be so crazy with Dad and training and fighting crime and shit.

Diego flinches, thinking of their childhoods, with all the violence and the injuries and the individual trainings that might as well be torture sessions. Diego knows he’s fucked up, probably always will be, but Five is still so young. He still has a chance.

“Why do you even want to go back? Our childhoods were shit, Five, and you want to voluntarily put yourself through that? You—you could stay here! And be safe and—and happy!”

“They’re my family!” he screams back. Diego freezes, glancing over at him with wide eyes. Five shifts in his seat, looking uncomfortable under his gaze. “I want to go back to my family,” he says. Five is gripping the armrest of his seat with white knuckles as he tries to keep his temper in check. “I know it’s probably too difficult of a concept for you to understand, Number Two, but  _ you aren’t someone I know. _ None of you are. I’m the same person that disappeared from your lives sixteen years ago, but you’re not the same people I left there.”

“Y-you’re not the same person though, Five,” Diego says softly. Sometimes he barely recognizes this version of his brother. “And—and you were g-gone. Now it’s like you’re back from the dead. We care about you, for f-fuck’s sake. Can you blame us for… for wanting you here? And for wanting what’s best for you?”

Five clenches his jaw shut tight and seems to think carefully about his next words. “It doesn’t matter what you guys want, and it doesn’t matter what happens here. When I make it back, everything that happened here will be erased. You won’t have any idea it happened.”

“But you will,” Diego murmurs. How can Five willingly go back into a world where Reginald Hargreeves still exists?

Five shakes his head hard. “That doesn’t matter. None of this matters.”

“We just want to protect you, Five. I… I just want what’s best for you.”

Does Five even know? He he realized yet, how fucked up their childhoods were? Does he realize that normal families don’t go through any of the shit, the literal hell that Reginald Hargreeves had put them through?

“What’s best for me is to get back to my family. They need me.”

“Need you? Don’t get me wrong, Five, we missed you like crazy, but—”

“I have to back,” Five snaps. “I can  _ fix this. _ ”

“Fix what?”

“You!” he screams. “All of you! You’re all so fucked up!”

Diego glares. Well, yeah, he knows that pretty damn well, thanks. “You know, you’re not a exactly a picture of emotional stability yourself, mister.”

“ _ Someone _ has to look out for us,” Five hisses. 

“Since when was that someone you?” Diego asks as he reels back, incredulous.

Five snarls, angry and raw. “Since I was  _ six, _ and I realized that ‘individual training’ was just a nice way of saying ‘personalized torture.’ Since I learned that I’m good at getting under Dad’s skin, and that I can argue and talk back and pull all of his attention away from Klaus or Ben or, yeah,  _ you. _ Since I figured out that I’m the  _ only one _ who could get us out, if only I could get better,  _ stronger. _ I have to get back.” Diego’s chest squeezes painfully when Five’s voice actually cracks at the end of his rant. “ _ I have to _ . No one else stands a chance.”

“You don’t have to get hurt for us!”

“Why do you care? You were perfectly happy for me to take your personal training time for you all the time before!”

“I didn’t know you were doing it on purpose. I thought you were just…” He trails off, unable to finish. Five’s expression has morphed into a painful mixture of hurt and anger. 

He remembers when Five first left, how empty everything felt. Diego had been the one to step up in Five’s absence, to fight back, angry and bitter, when the air of obedient fear was too suffocating to bear. He hadn’t done it to spare his siblings, just because he had all this horrible  _ anger _ inside of him, too much to swallow down and bite his tongue any longer.

He didn’t know Five had been doing any of that on purpose. He couldn’t imagine willingly putting himself through that. He’d just thought that Five was so arrogant and obsessive that he actually  _ wanted _ the extra lessons, that his need to be the best had won out against all of the pain and exhaustion. 

He doesn’t want Five to do that ever again. He doesn’t want this tiny kid sitting next to him to ever face off against his father ever again. Diego knows, if Five goes back, thirteen-year-old Diego will just keep letting him do it. He’d thought Five was an ass, but he’d also been relieved to have less time with Dad. 

Now that he knows better, he doesn’t want himself to be complicit in Five’s self-destruction. He wants his brother to get to be a kid. He wants him to be able to make mistakes and enjoy things and learn casually and for fun, without threat. He wants Five to know that it’s okay for him to be himself, and that no one’s going to turn around and stab him in the back or slit his throat if he even so much as stumbles up atop his blood-won pedestal. 

“I mean, it’s not like I ever wanted you to know,” Five grumbles, but his face says something else. 

Diego has to wonder if there’s a part of Five that wants his siblings to support him the same way he’s always tried to support them. If there is, he’s probably buried it so far down that he barely even recognizes the feeling. There’s no reason to expect any of them to make those sacrifices for him.

Diego had never expected it.

“You don’t— You should— We just want you to be okay, Five.”

“None of us were ever okay.”

“You can be okay here,” Diego says softly. “With us.”

Five shakes his head. “No. I can’t—I can’t do that.”

“I don’t understand you.”

“There’s a lot you don’t understand, Diego. It’s nothing new.”

He has to resist the urge to punch his brother.

“Are you not… happier here?”

Five is quiet for a moment, his head falling to rest against the window beside him. “I don’t know,” he says softly. It’s so uncharacteristic that Diego isn’t sure he’s heard him correctly. “But it doesn’t really matter does it.”

It absolutely does, but Diego’s having a hard time getting his mouth to form his argument. He’s still trying by the time they pull up to the Academy.

“Thanks for the books,” Five murmurs, and just like that, he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't where I intended to go with this but both Diego and Five make it hard to write fluff... stop fighting boys.... stop being so angry all the time.....
> 
> I'll just have to write fluff with them later to make up for it
> 
>  
> 
> Come chat with me in the comments and let me know what you think!!


	10. November 30th, 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five adds another handful of marshmallows to his hot chocolate, on top of the three Allison had already put in there for him. “Rewind the movie,” he says. “I want to watch.”

It’s been a few days, but the encounter with Diego still keeps her up at night. She’d been downstairs, making herself some dinner, when Diego stormed inside.

Allison sighed. It had been his day with Five, who was extraordinarily good at pressing people’s buttons, and no one’s buttons were easier to press than Diego’s. She should probably figure out what’s going on before one of them snaps and kills the other.

“Diego,” she said, and he moves his pacing into the kitchen to hear whatever she has to say. “What’s up?”

“Five,” he growled.

Allison sighed. Of course. “What did he do now?”

She’d been prepared for him to say any number of things—Five stole his favorite knife and lost it; Five made some jab about his terrible outfit or failure to actually become a cop; Five was acting especially overly-superior; Five was a stubborn, bratty know-it-all hurling barbs at Diego’s intelligence.

She hadn’t been prepared for what she saw when Diego finally turned to face her. He was angry, sure, but there was something else there, something Allison so rarely saw in Diego: _fear._ His face was pale and slack with horror, and his hands seemed to be trembling as he wrapped them around the edge of the counter with white knuckles.

“Diego?” she repeated, straightening up as her own anxiety squeezed in her chest. Was something wrong with Five? What had happened? Where was Five, and what could get Diego this shaken up? “Is—is Five okay?”

“Allison,” he said, “you’re a mother, right?”

She blinked. “Obviously... Diego, did you hit your head? What happened?”

Diego plowed on through, ignoring her questioning. “And you love Claire? And—and you would never want her to—to go through the shit we went through as kids?”

“ _No,_ ” she said. “Never.”

When she’d learned she was going to have a kid, the first thing she’d done was vow that she would never be anything her father. That kid was never going to go through what they went through.

“So, why are we letting that happen to Five?” Diego leaned heavily against the counter, hunched over and jaw clenched.

“What? What’s going on? Diego—”

“He’s an idiot, Allison. He’s so stupid!”

“Diego—”

“He wants to go back! And—and all because he—he thinks he can… he thinks he can _save_ us or some bullshit. He wants to protect us. And ap-apparently, he’s _been_ protecting us! Did you know that? Did you know he takes on extra tr-training sessions j-just so we won’t have to?”

She shook her head. “No, Five just—”

“We can’t let him go back. I don’t… I don’t want him to get hurt for me.”

She’d never seen Diego like that, at least not in a long, long time. He’d been practically shaking in his emotions. There’s no way he’d been lying or exaggerating, and the more Allison thought about it, the more it seems to actually, horrifically, make sense.

Allison, like most of Five’s siblings, always thought it was Five acting superior and arrogant, trying so hard to be the best, to be better than the rest of them.

But…  that hadn’t been it. At least, not all of it.

Five knew he was smart, knew he was powerful, knew he was special and important. But this… This is protection and dedication, disguised and warped until it's nearly unrecognizable to the uninformed viewer. And Allison hates it. Because that means Five has been taking on so much pain and torment and abuse—and none of his siblings had even noticed.

Even if he hadn’t been taking on their training time, she’d realized very suddenly that he would _still_ be going back to an environment of horrific abuse, just because that’s what he’s familiar with. And that isn’t okay. Even their average, day-to-day lives had been hell on earth.

She’d pictured Claire in their position, any one of them, and it had made her sick to her stomach. Just because Five is ‘used to it’ doesn’t make it any better.

He got out. Why does he have to go back?

“He’s so _stupid,_ ” Diego snarled suddenly. “Why would he do this? Why would he think he has to do all that for us?”

“I never realized,” Allison said, her eyes shining and the kitchen going blurry around her. “Why didn’t I realize? Why didn’t any of us ever realize?”

“Because none of us were dumb and self-sacrificing enough to even _think_ about this shit. He’s so fucking stupid, Ally—”

“And he wants to go back,” she breathed. “He wants to go back and keep doing this. When does it stop?”

When is he going to cross a line he can’t come back from? When is he going to go to far and cause Dad to snap? Five never knew when to stop. If he kept this up, he was going to get seriously hurt. He could die—Ben was proof of that.

“W-we can’t let him go back.”

She shook her head, in total agreement, but… “But we can’t exactly stop him.”

“Sure we can!” Diego snapped, slamming a fist on the counter. “You’re the one who keeps saying we’re the adults here! He has to listen to us!”

“We both know that’s not true, Diego,” she said gently. “He’s our brother, and he’s Five. Even if we could somehow forbid him from leaving, that won’t stop him. You know it won’t.”

“Well then, what are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I don’t know what to do. Maybe we can just… try and show him that we care about him, so he understands that we’d want to protect him right back.”

Diego’s sigh was long and exhausted. “I don’t think he’ll ever really understand that.”

She’d laid a gentle hand on his arm and pursed her lips. “Well, we’ll just have to try our best. That’s all we can do.”

 

She’s thought every day since then about how she can prove to Five that they love him and want him to take better care of himself. Ideally, they would be able to convince him to stay here, but short of rumoring him into compliance, she doesn’t think that’s possible.

But damn if she’s not still going to try.

Five is in the Academy library, which is good. If he’s in his room, he’ll just kick her out, but the library is free game, especially if Allison stays quietly on the other side of the room and doesn’t get in his space.

Allison didn’t spend a lot of time with Five when they were kids. She tended to either be with Luther or sometimes with Klaus, while Five spent most of his time with Vanya and Ben. They were the quiet kids, and honestly, sometimes Allison had barely noticed them. The things they did during their free time had seemed to her to be, well, pretty boring.

When she was a kid, Allison was a big fan of all the wonderful stereotypical slumber party activities she’d read about in teen magazines, like painting each other’s nails, gossiping about boys, eating junk food and watching cheesy movies.

She and Claire had done that sometimes—put up intricate blanket forts and snuggled up atop luxurious pillows to watch Disney movies while sipping hot chocolate. Claire would always fall asleep on her lap, and Allison had thought her heart might burst with happiness.

It’s childish and nostalgic and Allison wants Five to experience it at least once in his damn life, even if she has to trick and bribe him into it.

And Allison doesn’t necessarily need her rumors to get people to do what she wants. She vows to herself that, by the end of the night, Five will have his nose out of his books so he can enjoy spending time with her _goddamnit._

“Hey, Five,” she says, quiet and casual. He’s curled up in an armchair in the corner, frowning intently, a book in his lap and a notebook balanced on the arm of the chair. He keeps a pen hovered over the notebook pages, scribbling the occasional note.

“Hey,” he mumbles back absently, quite possibly not even aware of which of his siblings has decided to grace him with their presence.

She plops herself down on the small couch. It’s next to Five’s armchair, but she sits on the far side so as not to crowd him. There are already blankets and pillows in there, a few of which she’d brought with her to make the space more cozy. Getting settled in, she pulls down some sappy romance novel from the shelf and tucks herself under a blanket to read.

She doesn’t look up until she hears the distinct sound of stomach rumbling. Five’s stomach, to be more specific. He glares quickly down at his own abdomen, as if angry at his own body for needing energy and sustenance, which is a little hilarious.

“Hungry?” she asks.

“No. I’m fine. Busy.”

“You can keep working if you want,” she says carefully. “I’m going to get some food for myself. Want me to bring you something?”

He looks up, frowning at her in confusion. “Sure?”

She smiles. “Great. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Alright…”

No one had really ever taught Allison how to cook, but she’d slowly learned the basics upon having a tiny human to have to take care of. Claire, though, was a picky eater. Maybe she would have rumored her into eating better, but honestly Allison only knew how to make the easy stuff anyways, so it kind of worked out.

Macaroni and cheese—easy to make and the ultimate food to a four-year-old.

She supposes he could use something healthy too, so she grabs an apple from the fruit bowl and carefully carries their dinner back to the library, where Five has progressed to muttering numbers to himself.

“Here you go!” she exclaims, all but shoving the bowl of macaroni and cheese into Five’s lap.

He startles slightly, as if he hadn’t even noticed she’d returned, but takes the bowl from her. She sets the apple down on top of his notebook.

“What is this?” he asks, stirring the macaroni around the bowl with his fork.

“Macaroni and cheese,” she says. Wow, what a sad, isolated life they used to live.

Five nods. “I’ve heard of that.” Slowly, he takes a bite. “Not bad.”

He finishes the whole bowl in record time, although she has to force the apple on him. He’s at least content to distractedly munch on it while he reads with his other hand.

Five goes back to his work, and Allison waits, putting on a movie on her laptop while Five is too deep in his distraction to hear anything she’s doing. And then the thing she’s been waiting for happens: Five yawns.

Perfect.

“Hey,” she says, “how do you feel about hot chocolate? I’m a little chilly, so I think I’ll go make some for myself.”

“Can I have coffee?”

“No,” she says with a snort. “Why would you even want that? Do you even like coffee?”

“Sure I do.” There’s no way Five has ever even tried coffee, and he certainly wouldn’t like it, not with that sweet tooth of his.

“Well, we don’t have any. Sorry.”

“Fine. I suppose I wouldn’t say no to some hot chocolate then. If you’re already going to make some, that is.”

“Alright. Sounds good.”

 

Allison tosses the rest of the bag of marshmallows at Five, who barely manages to catch them before they smack him in the face. She settles back down, passing him his mug of hot chocolate.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. “What movie is this?”

“It’s um… _Finding Nemo._ One of Claire’s favorites.”

“Oh. Claire… that’s your daughter?”

“Yeah. Your niece actually. I—I miss her.”

Five simply nods. “I bet. Well, you’re working it out, right?”

“I… I’m trying,” she says, actually surprised by how understanding Five is being. He’s always said she relied too much on her powers and used them irresponsibly, mostly to get her own way. He wasn’t wrong, but she’d expected a big, giant _I told you so_ now that those mistakes have come back to haunt her.

Five adds another handful of marshmallows to his hot chocolate, on top of the three Allison had already put in there for him. “Rewind the movie,” he says. “I want to watch.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I want to know what happens to the little orange fish, okay?”

“Okay. Sure, I’ll rewind.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs into his mug of hot chocolate.

Allison smiles. “Of course.”

Five scoots the armchair closer to the couch and leans over towards her. Allison balances the laptop on the arm of the couch between them and restarts the movie.

Five sighs, sounding content as he sips his hot chocolate. She passes him one the soft throw pillows and a quilt from the back of the couch, which he takes without much complaint. He looks adorable and tiny when he automatically cocoons himself in the blanket, just his head and his hot chocolate sticking out.

 

Apparently, both dentists and pets are foreign concepts to Five, which shouldn’t actually be very surprising.

He doesn’t seem to get the whole idea of a pet, but maybe that’s just because the movie only deals with keeping fish, which Five seems to see as pointless and a waste of resources.

He looks much more thoughtful, though, when she mentions some of the other types of pets people tend to keep. Five seems like a dog person.

It’s actually pretty fun explaining stuff like dentists to Five. He seems to have a hard time wrapping his head around the idea that normal people go to the dentist regularly, instead of having a robot that they call Mom examine their teeth twice a year.

“She’s a nightmare!” Five laughs, looking at the dentist’s brat niece.

“Oh yeah she is,” Allison agrees. “You know, that’s what you look like when you do that creepy smile of yours—”

“I do not! Allison, take that back! She’s terrible! Even I’m not that bad.”

She laughs. “I didn’t say you _were_ her, just that you look like her.”

“I hate this fucking family.”

“Watch your language, mister.”

“I will not.”

“Fair enough. Can’t say I didn’t try.”

“I hope you do better than that with Claire.”

“Claire’s five. We’re still in the _‘stupid’ is a no-no word_ phase.”

“Ah. I’ll have to teach her then.”

For a split second, Allison is so overwhelmed by the implication that Five wants to meet her daughter that she doesn’t register what he’s said. Then it catches up to her.

“No!”

Five laughs, halfway between evil and delighted.

 

“Can you do my other hand for me?” Allison asks, holding the bottle of purple nail polish out to Five.

“No,” he says.

“Come on, Five. Please? I can’t paint very well with my left and then I just know I’m going to get nail polish on the couch and then Diego’s going to kill me for making a mess for Mom to clean up.”

“What a compelling argument,” Five says dryly. “Still no.”

“ _Pleeeeeeease?_ ”

“You’re annoying,” he grumbles, shoving the proffered bottle away from him.

“Annoying, huh?” Allison grins. She reaches out, poking Five hard in the side. He half yelps, half giggles, lurching away from her all the same.

“Stop it!” he snaps.

“I’ll show you annoying!”

She keeps poking him, even as he tries to slap her hand away, until he finally relents. “Fine. Fine! God, you’re the worst, Allison.”

He holds his hand out, palm up, and she slaps the bottle of nail polish into it. He twists off the top, nose wrinkling at the smell. Allison holds out her right hand for him to paint.

Five is nothing if not dedicated to his task. He hunches over her hand, getting much closer than he necessarily has to, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in his concentration. She actually has to pause the movie when he gets too into it and misses too many important details.

In the end, he does a pretty shabby job, and she’ll definitely have to ask Klaus to do a touch up later, but Allison could not care less. So far, she’s successfully tricked Five into not only cozying up and drinking hot chocolate but watching a childish movie and painting her nails. She counts that as a pretty massive success.

 

“What’d you think?” she asks as the credits roll.

Five shrugs. “I can see why your daughter would like that.”

Allison hums. “You know, there are a bunch of other movies like this.”

“There are a bunch of other movies about fish children getting fish-napped by dentists?” Five asks with a frown.

“No, no,” she chuckles. “I meant that there’s a bunch of other fun movies that you missed, either busy being a child soldier or jumping into the future. We could watch some more if you want.”

Five seems to think about it for a moment, bobbing his head from side to side. “Yeah, okay.” He grins wickedly. “Then I can threaten to spoil the endings for you guys when I go back.”

Allison’s heart sinks at that, and not because she’s worried Five will go back in time and ruin _The Princess and the Frog_ or _Lilo and Stitch_  for her.

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, that would, uh, that would suck.”

He frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Five. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, which is it? Nothing, or _something_ that I shouldn’t worry about?”

“Nothing,” she says.

“Come on, Allison. Just tell me.”

“Fine.” She takes a deep breath before letting the words rush out of her. “I don’t want you to go back. That’s all. I think you should stay here, with us.”

“Oh.” Five looks stunned, not so much like he’s surprised she’s thinking this way, more that he’s shocked she’d admitted it. He shrugs suddenly, shaking his head like he’s a human Etch-A-Sketch and switching his expression to one of easy understanding. “Diego warned me this might happen.”

“What?”

“Yeah. You just miss your daughter, Allison, that’s all. You miss having someone to mother.”

“No, Five. That’s not—”

“It is. And, look, I’m really sorry things are so messy with Claire and your ex-husband, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not a little kid. I don’t need a mother, and I’m not going to let you treat me like a child just to ease your conscience.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“It is, and it’s okay. Just, it’s time to stop. It’s okay. When I go back, you won’t remember any of this. It won’t even exist anymore. We’ll grow up together. Hey, maybe next time around I can introduce you to _Finding Nemo._ ”

“Five, come on. You can’t seriously want to go back?”

“I do,” he says, nodding seriously.

She doesn’t press. Diego had given her the rundown of his and Five’s argument, and she has no desire to go through it as well. She doesn’t want to hear, from Five’s own mouth, about all the sacrifices he’s made and plans to keep making. She can barely stomach it in the abstract.

“Do you miss us?” she asks instead. “Younger us?”

“Yeah,” Five says softly. “I do.”

“I’m sorry we weren’t very close before.”

He shrugs. “It’s alright. There are seven of us. We can’t all be expected to be best friends or anything.”

“I know I won’t remember any of this, but maybe you can try and reach out more? I’ve had a nice time tonight, Five. I like spending time with you.”

“Maybe,” he says. “I think you’ll probably just ignore me though.”

“Maybe,” she agrees. “Can you blame me? You’re pretty obnoxious.”

“You’re obnoxious!”

She laughs and he joins in and she likes that a lot, the way their laughs sound together. Their happiness is so open and loud in a way that they could never afford to be as kids.

“Promise me you’ll try, alright?” she asks, once they dissolve back into quiet.

Maybe, if she and Five get closer, she’ll somehow realize what Five is doing. Maybe she’ll be able to stop him. Although it still kind of makes her stomach churn now, she knows younger her would have no problem rumoring Five into taking better care of himself.

She has to try.

He looks a little shocked, but nods anyway. “Alright. I promise. You’ll probably just yell at me and tell me get lost though.”

She sighs. “I know. Maybe you can help me come to my senses a bit earlier.”

So she won’t ruin her life. So she won’t lose Claire.

“I’ll do my best,” he says, so, so serious for someone so young. “There’s a lot of stuff I want to change.”

“Yeah.” God, she understands. There’s so little about their lives she _wouldn’t_ change. She just wishes Five wouldn’t kill himself to do it. There’s a fine line between love and sacrifice, and she’s so scared Five won’t realize how much he’s given until it’s too late.

“I know you said Claire likes this _Nemo_ movie,” Five says, interrupting her thoughts, “but what’s your favorite? You know, for when I have to try and force you to spend time with me?”

She cracks a half smile. “I’ve always been a bit partial to _Mulan._ ”

“I don’t know what that is, but great. Let’s watch it.”

“What, now?”

“Yes, now. Do you have anything better to do?”

“No.” Absolutely not.

“Great. Let’s go. Chop chop, Allison. Use your movie star money to rent us crappy children’s movies.”

“Hey. There will be absolutely no shit talking _Mulan._ ”

 

Five doesn’t fall asleep in her lap. She’d never expected him to—he’s not Claire, after all. But he does fall asleep right there in the chair beside her, hugging one of the pillows under his chin and slumped over towards her. His head lolls sideways towards her. She stands up, moving to cover him up with a blanket and gently tuck another pillow under his cheek to keep him from waking up with a sore neck.

As quietly and gently as she possibly can, Allison leans over and presses a feather-light kiss to her brother’s forehead.

“Sleep tight, Five,” she whispers, before settling back into her own spot on the couch. It’s so comfortable, more comfortable than the library couch had any right to be, but it might just be the combination of the cozy blankets around her and the sound of Five’s soft snores.

He’ll surely be gone in the morning. If he wakes up before her, she has no doubt that he’ll jump away, embarrassed, and leave her to clean up the mess. But for now, she’s just going to enjoy having him here, while she still can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell all the siblings are getting their own chapter yet?


	11. December 4th, 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sure, the rest of their siblings seem to recognize that Five needs to take more breaks, but Klaus is the most successful, mostly because he plays the Ben card to get Five to do stuff with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy I struggled with this one. I struggled through 3k which I absolutely hated and then promptly slam dunked in the garbage can so I could replace it with this nonsense

Ben thinks Klaus is trying to live vicariously through Five, but Klaus thinks that’s pretty ridiculous. They never actually got real childhoods, so he should be able to go out and do all that stuff now to make up for it. He’s not  _ using _ Five—they’re just living vicariously together.

If anyone’s living through anyone, it’s Ben through Klaus, considering the fact that he’s literally been speaking through Klaus and forcing Klaus to do all the stuff that only corporal people can do. Ben did not find this statement as clever as Klaus did. He didn’t share it with Five, because Five would be even less impressed than Ben.

This family is one tough crowd.

Oh well. He still amuses himself.

But back to living vicariously! Sure, the rest of their siblings seem to recognize that Five needs to take more breaks, but Klaus is the most successful, mostly because he plays the Ben card to get Five to do stuff with him. Five absolutely cannot say no to his dead brother, and Klaus doesn’t even need to lie, because Ben is totally on the get-Five-out-of-the-fucking-house train. Also Ben likes to go out and do stuff too. And spend time with his two favorite brothers.

They are just killing so many birds with this one stone! What a morbid metaphor. 

They’ve seen five different movies in theaters, just like Ben had always begged Klaus to do—they can afford it now that Dad is dead and Luther has allowed them to use some of the Academy’s money to take care of Five. (This totally counts as taking care of Five.) 

Ben and Five complained for two whole days after they watched an adaptation of some book they both loved. Klaus thought it was fine, his brothers are just whiners. Five was amazed by the giant screen and the literal bucket of buttered popcorn. He’d also nearly torn the head off of some poor sap who’d tried to sit in Ben’s seat before Klaus had managed to reel him back in.

They’d played mini golf. After explaining the concept to Five, he’d bragged that he was bound to be amazing at it, since it was all physics. Turns out, both Five and Klaus are absolute shit at mini golf. It took them hours, and in the end, Klaus only managed to win by one point.

They’d actually gotten up at 9:00 in the morning to go to the farmers market with Allison and Luther, and it was so, so worth it to see Five there. Tons of people, all with their lives scarily put together, like to bring their dogs to the farmer’s market. Five seemed to gravitate straight towards all the dogs, and they pulled on their leashes to greet him right back. If Five wasn’t so dead set on abandoning them to go back to stupid old 2002, Klaus would adopt like seven dogs for the kid, just to see him smile like that more often. Allison took about a hundred pictures; Klaus had never wished he had his own phone so bad.

He took Five to a pet store the next day, just to see how he would respond to other animals. As kids, they’d never had much exposure to the world of pets. Five finds the whole place fascinating, but he isn’t as enthusiastic as he’d been with the dogs. Cats and Five don’t seem to get along too well, but Klaus thinks that’s because Five is too much like a grumpy cat himself. Ben on the other hand loves cats, and he spent thirty minutes forcing Klaus to pet them for him. Then they spent another thirty minutes there while Klaus held the bunnies and Five scribbled in his notebook in the corner.

Klaus has big things planned for today. He’s allowed Five to work until 2:00, but now it’s Klaus’s time, which means it’s all fun and no math.

“Fiiiiive,” he calls through the kid’s closed door, rapping lightly and excessively on the wood.

“Busy,” Five shoots back.

“But Ben wants to go out! And he wants his favorite baby brother to join in!”

“Klaus,” Ben rolls his eyes, though he’s grinning, “stop manipulating him.”

“No. He needs to get out of the house. See the world! Who knows when he’ll get another shot once he goes back?”

Five appears suddenly in a flash of blue, nearly startling Klaus out of his skin.

“Jesus! You couldn’t have just walked?”

Five grins like the little devil he is. “Nope.”

“Whatever, you little shit. Let’s get going! Ben is impatient.”

“I am not.”

“He is not.”

“Well I am! So let’s boogie!” 

After making sure Five is all bundled up in the new winter coat Allison had bought for him, they head out, walking in the crisp winter air.

“Where are we even going?” Five asks after a few minutes of walking.

“Yeah,” Ben pipes up, “where are we going? You didn’t even tell me.”

“Well, dear brothers,” Five startles at that, looking around for Ben. Klaus waves his hand over Ben’s head to let him know. “Today we will embark on a journey to practice a time-honored tradition—”

“Can’t you just be straightforward for once in your life?” Five snaps. Ben snickers.

“Aw, but that would take all the fun out of it. And you look so cute when you’re confused and frustrated.”

Five growls, crossing his arms and stomping his foot. “I am not cute.”

Logically, Klaus knows that Five could probably kick his ass without breaking a sweat. He wouldn’t even need to use his powers—Klaus is just that out of shape. But when he looks at his little brother all he can think is  _ baby _ and  _ must swaddle in blankets and protect from the world. _ He can’t help the fact that Five glares like a grumpy kitten.

Ben practically coos at the sight, something Klaus has to resist the urge to do if he wants his ass to remain unkicked. Ugh, Ben gets to have all the fun.

“Sure you aren’t.” Klaus winks and reaches out to ruffle up Five’s neatly styled hair.

The kid squawks in indignation and the next thing Klaus knows, he’s being chased down the sidewalk by an angry middle schooler, Ben laughing as tags along, no breath in his lungs to run out of.

“It was Ben!” Klaus tries, out of breath already. “I did it for Ben! He wanted me to and… and you know, he doesn’t have hands!”

“Hey!” Ben protests. “Don’t try and use me to get out of this!”

“Shut up, Ben! I did this for you! I could see it in your eyes!”

“Klaus!” Five growls.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Klaus cries, laughing and panting all at the same time. He holds out his hands, desperate to stop the tiny little ball of rage hurtling towards him. “We’re here! Stop!”

Five does come to a stop, socking Klaus once on the arm, not even hard enough to bruise. Still, Klaus feigns agony while Five rolls his eyes. Five then turns to squint up at the building in front of them.

“What the hell is this place?” he asks.

“It’s paint your own pottery!”

“Paint your own pottery?” Five echoes. He shakes his head. “No. I’m not doing this. It’s silly and childish and a waste of my time. No way, Klaus. And Ben. I don’t care what he wants, I’m not doing this.”

 

Five scowls down at the ceramic pencil cup on the table in front of him, a paint brush gripped in his fist.

“This is stupid,” he spits out, for probably the fifteenth time.

“Sure is,” Klaus agrees absently, wandering over to the shelves to pick out something to paint himself. Ben trails after him.

“You used me to guilt him into coming here, but I can’t even paint anything, Klaus.” To prove his point, Ben waves his ghostly hands through Klaus’s face.

“I know that. We’ll get you after. Five and I will just have to be your hands. You can tell us what to paint.”

“That’s lame.”

“Yeah, but look how cute Five is when he’s concentrating.” He sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and scowls at whatever he’s working on as if he can intimidate it into magically doing exactly what he wants.

Ben grunts, but doesn’t disagree.

“I’m gonna make something for Five,” Klaus grumbles to Ben out of the corner of his mouth. “What should I paint?”

Ben shrugs. “Something he can use, probably.” That’s why the kid had picked the pencil cup on sight. 

“Ooh! Like a mug! He’s been drinking a lot of coffee lately.”

Ben snorts. “It’s not coffee. It’s hot chocolate. I think Allison makes it for him.”

“Well whatever! I’ll paint him the best hot chocolate mug imaginable!” 

Klaus scans the shelf before grabbing the biggest mug they have. It’s comically large, almost a bowl, really, and probably bigger than Five’s face. It’s gonna look ridiculous in Five’s tiny child hands.

“This one.”

“Really?” Ben drawls. “You don’t want to find a bigger one? I think that one might be too small.”

“Good thing Five can’t hear that sarcasm, Benny. Pretty sure the kid thinks he has a monopoly.”

Ben grins. “Who do you think I learned it from?”

Klaus forgets sometimes what things were like when they were kids. Well, not all of it. He still remembers the itchy uniforms and the early mornings and the ghosts and the mausoleum, but looking at Five like this, something doesn’t quite line up. He forgets how things used to be, before Five left. The family dynamics from way back then feel almost like a dream, as foreign as they are now. He forgets how Ben and Vanya used to look up to Five, how they all did in their own way, how Five used to be so big and so bold, an unstoppable force fighting back against the immovable object that they called their father. He forgets how Ben used to be the quiet kid, before the new perspective that comes from dying and before he only had Klaus to talk to, only Klaus to speak his mind and be himself to.

It’s bizarre when he thinks about it, how easily he’d slipped into thinking about Five as his little brother, instead of that fierce, invincible ball of anger and stubbornness that he distantly remembers.

Klaus shoves those thoughts away, because if he thinks too hard about these two different versions of Five, he starts to get a headache. He concentrates instead on trying to find the perfect combination of blue to paint the outside of Five’s mug-bowl. He wants it to match up with Five’s powers, but it’s difficult to replicate, especially since he usually only sees it for a split second at a time. Even with both his and Ben’s big brains together, it still doesn’t look quite right, but he decides to move along anyway. 

Klaus glances over to see Five almost done with his painting. Not surprising, considering the fact that he was just layering on the same shade of plain red paint all over the whole thing. 

Fine. If Five’s not going to get interesting with his painting choices, then Klaus will just have to be extra ambitious.

He’s going to paint Five.

“Oh, don’t do that,” Ben says, while Klaus starts painting a vaguely head-like blob inside of the mug. “It’s not gonna go well.”

“Shut up, Ben. You don’t know anything.”

“Ben knows more than you,” Five says without looking up. “You should listen to him more often.” Ben beams.

 

“What do you think?” Klaus asks as he puts the finishing touches on his painting. He lifts up the mug for Five to see the inside.

It’s a truly terrible caricature, almost as bad as the one hanging above their mantle. The eyes are too beady and the ears are way too big, one eyebrow is arched way more than the other and he’d fucked up trying to properly capture Five’s evil grin. Klaus thinks it’s perfect.

Five stares, glancing back and forth between him and the mug, looking too bewildered to actually glare.

“What the hell is that,” Five says, low, verging on dangerous.

“It’s you!”

The look of horrified disgust on Five’s face is enough to make Ben lose it, practically doubling over in his seat as he cackles. Klaus can’t help his own massive grin.

“I hate you with every inch of my body.”

“That’s not a lot of inches, baby bro. I think it looks good!”

“I will sue you.”

“Sounds fun! You almost done there, bud? I wanna paint something for Ben.”

At the mention of Ben’s name, Five’s scowl lessens slightly, more of a grimace than a glare. “Yeah, sure. There’s only so many times I can paint over this thing.”

“Great! Come help me pick something out.”

“Can’t Ben just pick for himself?”

“But Ben’s so boring. He’ll just pick something boring.”

“And Five is so much more interesting than me?” Ben asks, nodding at Five’s red pencil cup.

“Okay, you’re both boring.”

“Hey!” Five exclaims.

Klaus puts his hands up. “Ben’s words, not mine.”

“Slander,” Ben deadpans. “I will help the kid sue you.” Five cheers when Klaus relays that message.

“Look, Ben!” Klaus points to a little ceramic octopus on the shelf. “It’s you!”

Ben and Five shoot him identical unimpressed looks. “No,” they both say at the same time.

“Wow, that was freaky.”

“Here,” Five says, shoving something into Klaus’s hands. “Ben might like this.”

Klaus glances down. It’s a ceramic cat, only about three inches tall, with a long winding tail and an adorable smile. Huh. Apparently Five had at least been paying a little bit of attention when they went to the pet store.

“It is pretty cute,” Ben says. “I wanna paint that. Tell Five nice choice.”

Klaus relays the message, and Five beams, a softer sort of pride than his usual. Klaus likes seeing all these different sides of his brother.

“C’mon, Ben, come pick out some paint.”

Ben settles on yellow and orange, sitting on the table and hovering while Five and Klaus each work on the cat.

“Why do I have to paint the butt?” Five grumbles, halfheartedly slathering on paint.

“So that Ben can tell me how he wants the face painted, duh. What d’ya think, Benny? Pink nose or black nose?”

“Pink,” Ben answers, and Klaus dots it on the cat’s nose. “And tell Five to stop fucking up the tail.” 

Five looks like he wants to paint the thing blue in retaliation, brush hovering over the glob on his pallet, but eventually decides against it, grumbling as he complies with Ben’s wishes. Being dead sure does have its perks.

“Klaus!” Ben says suddenly. “You fucked up the whiskers.”

“Aw shit.”

“Should’ve picked me,” Five singsongs, reacting as if he could also somehow hear Ben. He’s getting good at that—guessing what Ben’s said based on Klaus’s reaction. 

“At least I’m actually painting the cat,” Klaus grumbles. Five’s moved on, using a pencil to jot down math problems on the corner of the table. Ah, some light vandalism. Klaus is so proud. 

 

“Thank you for this,” Ben says when they get back home, his tone serious for pretty much the first time all day. Five has just vanished, disappeared up into his room, pencil cup in hand. “All of this. I like spending time with Five. And I… I just… If Five goes back, he’s gonna see me die too, and—and I need him to know that I’m gonna be okay.”

Klaus waves him off, even though something heavy has lodged itself in his throat. “Yeah, yeah. Go read your dumb book, you big sap.” Does he understand why Ben can interact with some objects? No, but Five recommended a book for him, and he knows Ben’s been eager to get started on it.

Ben rolls his eyes and stops towards the library with a short wave.

But Ben’s words rattle around in Klaus’s head. 

_ I need him to know that I’m gonna be okay. _

Klaus also wants Five to remember this. Besides, if Five knows, then he’ll believe Klaus when he’s seventeen and high and grieving and everyone else just thinks he’s delusional. Klaus won’t be alone. It won’t just be him and Ben. It’ll at least be Klaus and Ben and Five,  _ at least _ —because damn if Five doesn’t know how to keep their family from drifting too far away from each other.

He doesn’t want Five to get too wrapped up in his grief that he forgets. He doesn’t want Five to drift out of the family like the rest of them. He doesn’t want any of them to leave.

Five… Five could make all the difference.

Klaus climbs up to Five’s room, knocking loudly on the closed door.

“Five?”

“Klaus,” Five’s voice drifts through the door, irritated. “We literally spent the whole day together. This had better be an emergency.”

“It is!”

“Is it?” Five sounds so ridiculously apathetic. Klaus can hear him turning the pages of something in there, only half listening.

“It is!”

Five surprises him by actually opening the door, one eyebrow arched up practically in his hairline. “What do you want?” 

Klaus holds out the mug bowl portrait—really, so many functions in one! Five should be delighted, the funky little pragmatist. “Will you take it with you? When you go back?”

Five grins, wicked and toothy like an alligator—and hey, maybe he  _ did _ get the mouth right—before Klaus gets a door slammed in his face.

“I paid twenty bucks for this!” Klaus protests. 

“Tough shit!”

“I’m just gonna leave it right here!” Klaus shouts before setting the mug down on the floor in the hallway. “In case you change your mind!”

He’ll change his mind. Who wouldn’t want a masterpiece like this?


	12. December 9th, 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison is in the middle of a story about walking in on Klaus tie dying all of Diego’s shirts when Vanya blurts out, “I think I’m a bad sister.”

For some reason, her siblings seem to think that Vanya has this whole Five situation on lock. Maybe it’s because they’d been close as kids, and Five had been more relaxed, more open with Vanya and Ben than with anyone else.

But there’s no guidebook for what you’re supposed to do when your brother vanishes when you’re thirteen and reappears sixteen years later without having aged a day. How is she supposed to know what to do when she grew up without the person she’d most looked up to—and now she’s supposed to be the one to take care of him?

Not that she doesn’t want to, she does. Of course she does. Just like the rest of her family, everything inside of her screams out to take care of Five, to make sure he’s happy and healthy. She still loves him. She loves him so, so much. 

But she’s struggling. Everyone else seems to have these latent older sibling energy that got awakened the moment Five came crashing back into their lives.  Why does it come so natural to the rest of them? Is it part of being heroes? Being a part of the Umbrella Academy? All their superheroing probably makes them just really good at protecting people. She doesn’t have that training. She doesn’t know how to handle this like they all seem to. 

Allison makes sense; she’s a mother, even if her current standing with her husband and daughter is rocky at best. She knows how to handle this. Well, maybe not  _ this, _ but she knows how to handle a child. Diego is surprisingly adept, even if he can be quick to lose his temper. At least he usually tries to take it out on the rest of them rather than on Five. 

Klaus and Five get along, perhaps because Klaus is really even more of a kid at heart than Five, the literal kid. Still, she’s even seen a change in her most irresponsible brother. He’s better now, more responsible, not that the bar was set very high at all really, but it was true. Klaus is more sober now than she’s seen him in a long, long time. Luther and Allison had given him an ultimatum—either clean up, or no more field trips with Five, and Klaus was surprisingly willing to at least give it a try. Not that he’s totally sober or anything, but he’s doing better. 

Even Luther, as awkward as he’d acted around Five when he’d first arrived, is trying so, so hard to be a good role model. He’s dealing with a lot at the moment, but he’s never taken it out on Five. Luther, who’s always been stubborn and who’s always put Dad and his orders above all else. It’s as if now that he actually has to be the leader—with no Reginald whispering in his ear—he’s actually going more of the brother route than she’d expected, rather than someone who regurgitated orders. Luther had always treated them more like a team than a family, but with Five here now, young and impressionable, he wants to be a big brother. 

(If only he’d decided to try and be a brother earlier. They all would have been happier. Luther would have been happier.)

Only Vanya seems to be this lost, unsure of where she stands. After their late-night conversation where she’d successfully convinced Five to get more sleep and take better care of himself, she thought she’d been onto something. She thought she’d actually figured something out, that maybe she was finally the best person for the job, that she’d finally been better than her siblings at something. 

But that feeling had been fleeting. All she’d done was point out some logic, something Five tended to respond very well to. Anyone could have done that. Any one of her siblings would have figured out the magic words. She was just the first one to get to him, since their rooms were on the same floor. She isn’t a miracle worker, she isn’t the “Five whisperer” as Klaus had dubbed her. She’s not even a big sister.

And everything, this feeling that she’s not enough, that she’s not doing anything right, it builds and builds, until one day, she snaps.

It’s her day on the schedule, not that that means much. Five is hunkered down in his room like usual, curled up in his armchair while Vanya hovers awkwardly, wandering around his room and looking at shelves that haven’t changed in over a decade. She wants to spend time with him, but she has no idea how.

“Five?” she asks suddenly, before she even realizes she’s spoken.

“Yeah?” He doesn’t even look up, and a spike of hurt shoots through her at being virtually ignored by her favorite sibling.

“I just… I can’t do this!” Five frowns, settling his book to the side, although it’s still open. “I need you to work with me, Five, just a little bit more. I feel… I feel like I don’t even know you anymore!”

“I haven’t changed, Vanya.” He goes to pick the book back up, as if that would be the end of their conversation right there.

“Well then, I’ve forgotten.”

Five freezes, his face falling into something small and confused and sad, making Vanya’s chest squeeze painfully for a new reason. Once again, she fails at properly navigating this. “What?”

She slumps down on the arm of the chair, leaning slightly towards him but not enough to actually bump his shoulder. “You were my best friend. You were the one person in that house that I felt like I could trust. My… Some of my happiest memories as a kid are with you. But… that was just so long ago, Five. And I…” She sighs heavily. “I don’t remember how to be a good sister, Five. I’m sorry.”

“Well,” he says slowly, his voice gentle and comforting and she can almost place it somewhere in her distant memory, “we’ll just have to figure it out. I’ll… I’ll do better. Promise. We’ll just have to—to re-get-to-know each other. I suppose... I guess I don’t know adult Vanya that well either.” He frowns, seemingly caught between some emotions that Vanya can't quite decipher.

“You would do that?” she asks, her voice quiet, barely able to get the words out. “Because I… I know you just want to go home and… and this is just like a pit stop on the way back to us. There’s no reason you would need to get to know us.”

“But you’re upset,” Five protests. “And I don’t want you to be upset with me. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” she says quickly. He’s not. Fuck, this was all about  _ her _ being awkward, not Five being trouble.  _ He’s not. _ “This is all on me.”

“It’s not—”

“It is. It’s my problem.”

“If you really thought that, you wouldn’t have brought it up!”

“I know! I know. I’m sorry. Can’t you just forget I said anything?”

“No,” he shoots back, incredulous. “Come on, Vanya. What can I do to help? What can I do to make this easier for you?”

“I don’t know!” she shouts. “That’s the problem. I don’t… I don’t know what to do here.”

“Well I don’t either!”

Vanya is rambling now, her breathing inching closer and closer to hyperventilating. “I can’t just go back to the way things were! I can’t just sit here and do nothing while you read. It’s… It’s like I’m twelve years old again! And I’m not! I’m almost thirty, Five! I’m almost thirty years old and—and you’re thirteen! I don’t know what to do with thirteen-year-olds! I don’t know… I don’t know how to be a big sister.”

“You’re a good big sister,” Five says quietly. “Really. You do all the big sister stuff. It’s really annoying. You—you make me eat stuff that’s all gross and healthy and you make sure I actually sleep and you tell me that I’m gonna make it back. You’ve always been there for me, Vanya, in your own way. And I’m pretty sure that—that’s what big sisters do. Plus, you make the best peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches in the world.”

Vanya half laughs at that, swiping at the tears that have accumulated in her lashes at some point. “I don’t know if that’s really a qualification.”

Five grins. It’s lopsided and so, so endearing. Vanya wants to pull him into a massive hug. “It’s the only qualification that matters to me.”

Vanya sighs, a small smile still tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I guess there’s really no precedent for when the person you used to think of as, uh, as almost a big brother suddenly becomes your little brother.”

“We were all the same age, though.”

“I know. But you always seemed so… big. And strong and proud. And you protected me. And I’ve just been trying to—to do that for you now. To act the way you used to act for me. It’s silly, I get that now. I’m trying to model my big sibling behavior after the person who used to be my sort-of big sibling.”

“Maybe it isn’t working because you aren’t me. And I’m not you. Also, we’re the same age.”

One of Vanya’s eyebrows quirks up at that. Five says it so matter-of-factly, sticking his chin out, every ounce of him calm and confident. It looks out of place on a thirteen-year-old, although a lot of things that Five does look a bit out of place on a thirteen-year-old. “There’s no way I’m the same age as this baby face,” she huffs, poking at one of Five’s cheeks. He bats her hand away with a half scowl.

“Yeah, well, we’re the same height, Vanya. At least I have an excuse. I still have the chance to grow.”

Seemingly satisfied with himself, Five nods and picks his book back up. Vanya sighs, grabbing some random novel off of his shelf and settling down at the foot of his bed to read as well. She’s read it before—everything fiction on Five’s shelf comes as a recommendation from either her or Ben, since Five lacked any sort of taste of his own. Their conversation didn’t really go anywhere, and she still feels sort of empty, but Five is clearly done, so she’ll just have to be satisfied with simply being in his presence. 

At least it doesn’t seem like Five thinks she’s failing, but that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t still feel like she is.

 

Allison is in the middle of a story about walking in on Klaus tie dying all of Diego’s shirts when Vanya blurts out, “I think I’m a bad sister.”

Allison stares. “Huh?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just, you were talking earlier about wanting to be a better sister, but I’m not good either and—”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Allison waves her hands to cut off Vanya’s rambling. “What are you talking about? Where did this come from?”

“Five,” Vanya says with a sigh. “I just don’t know how to… how to talk to him or help him or—Allison, you gotta help me here. What do I do?”

Allison frowns. “Okay, wow, first Luther and now you. Alright, first thing’s first, you’re not a bad sister just because you’re a little awkward around Five.”

“But—”

“Nope. Vanya, it’s weird.”

“What?”

“It’s a weird situation. I mean, we all used to be the same age, and now he’s sixteen years younger than us? It’s weird!”

“Wait, you think it’s—”

“Yes! God, yes. It’s so bizarre.” Allison laughs, her eyes wide and slightly wild. “He’s so… tiny! Why is he so small?”

Vanya grins despite herself. “Do you have any room to talk? You’ve been taller than him since we were seven! I’m still shorter than him!”

“That’s true! How does it feel to be twenty-nine and shorter than a thirteen-year-old?”

“It feels good. I can… wear kids shoes and fit into crowded spaces.”

“You don’t like crowds.”

“I like to have the option.”

Allison snorts.

“Both you and Five,” Vanya grumbles. “What is it today with this family and making fun of my height?”

“Just teasing you, Vanya. Sibling banter or whatever. And apparently, you can still do that sort of stuff with Five, so clearly you’re not as lost as you think you are.”

“You think?”

“Vanya, I don’t know how you got it in your head that you’re massively failing at this, when all of us are struggling. It’s fucking  _ weird. _ Luther called me six times while I was in L.A. asking me how to handle Five, not that I have any answers for him, considering the fact that I flip back and forth between seeing him as Claire’s age and acting like he’s still the same age as the rest of us.”

“Really?”

“Hell yeah. There’s no right way to act in this situation. No one on Earth has ever been in this situation before!”

“God, our lives are so fucking weird,” Vanya chuckles. 

“Tell me about it. Look, Vanya, you’re doing just fine. You and Five always got along. You always seemed so natural around each other, relaxed even.” She shrugs. “Maybe just, whatever you used to do back then, which is clearly still good for him since he’s the same age, do it now. You’ve always been his sister, you just have to remember it.”

“I don’t think I did that much though.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to some big thing. Not every day with him has to be some huge breakthrough or big adventure or whatever. You know how easy Five is. Shove a book in his hands and he’s good to go!”

“Do you remember,” Vanya huffs a laugh, “when you guys were coming back from that mission and Five was reading in the car, and for like six hours after you got back no one knew where he was because he was—”

“—still in the car!” Allison finishes with her, laughing. “Yes! He didn’t even realize we were back at the mansion until it got too dark for him to see anymore.”

“He’s a gigantic nerd!”

“The only part of him that isn’t tiny!” Allison’s natural laugh is different from the one Vanya knows, the one she’s seen on the big screen. It’s loud, bordering almost on cackling, and she has a tendency to snort when she really gets going. Vanya grins wide, hearing it. It feels… nice, laughing with her sister. Different from the time she spends with Five, but good all the same. Even if it’s about thirty years late. 

 

Vanya takes a deep breath before marching into the library where Five is scouring the shelves. She sets down her violin case, opening it up and making her way over to where her old music stand is still set up in the corner. 

“Oh are you gonna practice?” Five asks, grabbing whatever book he was looking for. He looks stressed, and she’s a bit worried that if he scowls any harder, his face might just get stuck like that. Not that they’d notice a difference really.

“Yep.” She tucks her violin under her chin and glances back at him. “You can read here if you want. While I play. Just like we used to.”

“Okay…” Five hesitantly settles himself in the chair, tucking his knees up under himself. He opens his book, glancing at Vanya out of the corner of his eye. “Just like we… used to.”

Vanya lifts her bow and begins to play, beaming inwardly as she watches Five relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Klaus: I'm gonna tie dye all of diego's shirts  
> Allison: Why?  
> Klaus: because I have no impulse control!  
> Ben: am I a joke to you??


	13. December 14th, 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew it was possible for the Hargreeves to have a pleasant outing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is literally just filler so sorry about that BUT ALSO this fic already the longest thing I’ve ever written and we’re only just almost to the first sort of major plot point… Why am I like this?

Vanya hadn’t always dreamt of being a part of an orchestra. Like any kid, especially one without powers or a set pathway laid out for her, she hopped from dream career to dream career every few weeks or so. But eventually, she’d settled on what she did best, and even before Five jumped, she’d been dreaming of making it into a real orchestra. 

He’d be proud of her for achieving that dream, but honestly Five had never doubted her in the first place; it was simply inevitable. She’d been an amazing player when they were thirteen, so he can only imagine what she must sound like now. 

“I have a winter concert with, uh, with my orchestra,” Vanya says. She sounds painfully timid, wringing her hands and avoiding eye contact with him. She thrusts slightly crumpled flyer into the space between them and stares at her feet until Five takes it.

“Vanya, this is tonight.” 

“Yep.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I know.” She turns, almost like she’s planning on leaving. “You’re busy, and probably have a million other—”

“You know it takes multiple days to wrangle the herd of cats we call siblings.”

“Wait, what?” Vanya finally looks at him, stunned.

“We’re going,” Five says slowly. “Obviously. All of us.”

“Oh, Five, that’s—I’m really glad, but—”

“We’ll be there to support you. Besides, this family could use some more culture. Klaus and Luther were watching something called The Bee Movie the other night and I only saw about three minutes but frankly I’m terrified for the future of this species.”

Vanya frowns. “Klaus I sort of get, but why was Luther watching?”

“Klaus is really good at pulling everyone around him into his particular brand of chaos, and I think Luther had the poor luck of getting assigned dishes duty at the same time as Klaus. Anyway, concert tonight. We’ll be there.”

Vanya’s confusion melts into a wide smile. “Really?”

Five grins back. “Definitely. And if anyone tries to get out of it, they’ll have to go through me.”

“You know, you’re not as intimidating as you think you are.”

“I resent that.”

They stand in silence for a moment, Vanya grinning and Five fake-scowling, until Vanya says, “You’re still coming though, right?”

Five stares. “Yes, Vanya. Don’t be stupid.”

“Alright, I was just checking—”

“I’m gonna go threaten our siblings now.”

She waves, just before he jumps away. “Have a good time. Try not to kill anyone!”

“No promises!”

 

Ben wants to go, which means Klaus is coming, although he doesn’t seem super thrilled about it, if the repeated dramatic groans are anything to go by. Allison is excited, while Luther seems mainly indifferent and a bit nervous. Diego, though, is proving to be his usual difficult self.

“You’re coming.”

“I don’t want to,” Diego snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and facing off with Five.

“Too bad. We’re all going.”

“She’s just gonna sit in a chair and play the same notes as everyone else up there,” Diego whines. “Why do we have to watch that?” 

“She wants us to come.”

“I don’t care!”

“It’ll be good for us. We’re going.”

“We are not! Who put you in charge anyway?”

“I did, since I’m clearly the only one here with any sort of sense!”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m an adult—”

“You ate smiley face pancakes for breakfast this morning!”

“I didn’t ask for that, that’s just how Mom makes them!”

An idea springs to Five’s mind, and he knows he’s got Diego now. As much as he loves his siblings, and wants to protect them, he’s also well versed in all the ways that he can manipulate and blackmail them. Diego, for example, is self-conscious, easy to rile up, and quick to anger, but he’s also fiercely protective, and other than his hidden love for his siblings, he does have one big weakness, someone he will  _ always _ defend, from every little thing… 

“Hey,” Five says, trying to hide his growing sly smile, “do you think Mom would want to come tonight?”

Diego pauses. “She… might. But I’m still not going.”

“You are. You don’t want to miss Mom’s first big outing, do you?” 

“…No.”

“Great. Then it’s decided, you big softie. All of us,  _ including Mom, _ are going to see Vanya play tonight.”

“I’m not a softie!”

“But you  _ are _ going?”

“I hate you, Five. I really do.”

“I can live with that.”

“You insufferable asshole.”

“Really, none of this bothers me. Now, do you have something more… formal? You can’t wear spandex and a harness to this concert.”

“Yeah? And do you plan on wearing the sweatpants you stole or the schoolboy shorts in your closet?”

Five glowers, then mumbles, “Vanya said my good jeans and a nice button down are fine, so, ha. Jokes on you.”

“You asked her? That’s kind of cute, actually. Are you gonna wear a tie too? Do you need help tying it?”

“I will literally strangle you. That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever asked me. I helped you learn how to tie  _ your _ tie!”

“No, I don’t remember that.”

“Well, it happened. We were seven, and you were struggling—”

Diego shakes his head, pursing his lips to hide his evil grin. “Nah, didn’t happen.”

“I’m going to jump all your possessions onto the roof of the bowling alley.”

“You sure your real power isn’t empty threats?”

“That’s still a better ability than holding your breath.”

Diego quirks his head to the side. “Is it though?”

“It is!” Five balls his hands up into fists and pulls, jumping away before Diego can try and get in the last word. 

 

Is Five a big fan of classical music? Not really.

Does he enjoy sitting in a slightly itchy seat surrounded by strangers and in the middle of a row full of his siblings, shushing Klaus every five seconds and poking Luther awake every ten? Not at all.

But, does seeing Vanya up there on stage, completely in her element, smiling out at them between the different pieces, make him so incredibly proud? Yes. Absolutely. 

The concert is good, even if Five doesn’t particularly love just sitting there absorbing the sounds of classical music. It makes his fingers itch for a book or a pen. It’s possible that all that time spent working while Vanya practiced in the background may have classically conditioned him just a little tiny bit. He can’t help but drift off slightly as the orchestra plays, his focus caught up in potential new equations. Klaus flicks him in retaliation when he zones out completely. Vanya doesn’t need to know.

Mom absolutely  _ loves  _ it, which puts Diego in a good mood, which means that he doesn’t pick a fight with Luther. That means that Allison can relax and focus her energy on complimenting Vanya, and there’s nothing extra to distract Klaus from doing the same.  Who knew it was possible for the Hargreeves to have a pleasant outing.

Vanya meets them outside the concert hall afterwards. When she’s playing, she looks almost like a completely different person, someone with confidence and pride. She smiles more, even if it’s small and closed, and holds her chin just a little bit higher. She hustles over to them, and the smile is still there. Five waves, grinning back wide.

“That was great, Van,” he says. “You sounded awesome.”

“You were the best one up there,” Klaus adds, pulling a startled Vanya into a one-armed hug.

“Thanks,” she chuckles. “Although, there’s no way you could know that.”

“Would I lie to you, Vanya?”

“Uh—”

“Don’t answer that. Just let it be. You were the best one. And this calls for a celebration!”

“Um, some of my students talk about getting ice cream after their concerts,” Vanya suggests. “We could do something like that? If you guys want?”

Diego makes a face. “Uh—”

“I want ice cream,” Five interrupts. “Let’s go.”

Allison smiles between Five and Vanya. “Alright then. The kid’s spoken.”

“I have. Glad someone gets it.”

Allison rolls her eyes and starts the process of shepherding their family into their two cars. “Klaus, ride with Diego to make sure he actually joins us for ice cream.”

Klaus mock salutes. “On it!” He takes off running towards Diego’s car, narrowly avoiding faceplanting after four steps. “I’m okay!”

“I really enjoyed your concert,” Five says quietly, turning to Vanya as they walk towards Allison’s car.

“Thanks,” she murmurs back, the tips of her ears turning pink. “And thanks for dragging everyone else along. I know it was probably pretty boring.”

Five shrugs, not really arguing. It’s sort of true that classical music isn’t the most exciting thing in the world. “You looked good up there,” he says instead. “Like you belong there. You should have been playing the solo though, not that other girl.”

She smiles. “Thank you, Five, but Helen is very good.

“Well, you’re better.”

“I think you might be a little biased.”

“Maybe.” Five shrugs. Vanya seems embarrassed by all the attention she's gotten this evening, but her smile has been growing steadily stronger and stronger all night, so they must be doing something right.

“You guys are sappy,” Allison calls over her shoulder, causing Vanya to blush even harder.

“Can it, Allison,” Five shoots back. “We’re trying to have a conversation.”

“Yeah, a sappy one.”

“Careful, Allie,” Vanya says, “you’re starting to sound like Diego.”

Allison freezes in place. “Oh god no.”

“Yep. Diego’s the only one allowed to pretend that he’s allergic to feelings.”

“No, that’s not true. Five’s allergic to feelings too.”

“That’s true,” Five says. “I am.” He fake sneezes for good measure, and it makes Allison laugh. 

“You are not, silly,” Mom says, appearing to tap Five lightly on the nose just before they clamber into the car. He doesn’t do any more than lean away from her after, since it never feels like Mom’s being condescending when she does stuff like that, it’s just the way she is. “You’re only allergic to pistachios, just like Luther. Vanya is allergic to shellfish, Allison is allergic to cat dander, and Diego is allergic to bees.”

“See, Five?” Vanya says, bumping his shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with you having feelings. Mom says so.”

“Absolutely,” Mom agrees, completely ignoring the teasing grin on Vanya’s face. “It’s normal and perfectly healthy for you to express your feelings, dear. And I’m always here if you need someone to lend an ear.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Five mumbles.

“Me too,” Vanya says, sounding far too eager. Five shoves her shoulder and she grins.

 

The ice cream place Allison chooses for them has more than twenty different flavors. Five hadn’t even known that many ice cream flavors existed in the first place. He’d taken free samples of everything until Diego had taken pity on the poor employee and forced Five to just go ahead and pick something. He goes with a cup of chocolate peanut butter, which makes Diego look like he’s screaming internally, probably since it was the very first thing he’d tasted. 

They all cram around one table that’s definitely not meant for seven people plus a ghost. Beside him, Vanya eats carefully, making sure not to let any vanilla drip onto her suit. It’s a very nice suit, although a little out of place in the ice cream shop.

Allison coughs slightly, grabbing their attention as she sets down her ice cream and folds her hands on the table in front of her, wringing her fingers slightly. 

“What’s up, Allie?” Klaus asks when she doesn’t immediately speak up.

“I was thinking… I know we never really celebrated any holidays growing up, but I was thinking that maybe this year, we could do Christmas. I celebrated with Claire and Patrick and… And I think it would be really fun. And good for us.”

Luther smiles. “Sounds fun—”

Diego narrows his eyes. “What is this going to entail exactly?”

Allison shrugs. “I don’t have a ton of experience myself, but maybe a few decorations? Special family dinner? Presents? I think Christmas cookies are also a common tradition…”

“That sounds lovely, Allison,” Mom says. “I look forward to it.”

Allison smiles warmly. “Thanks, Mom. So what about the rest of you? You in?”

“Yes!” Klaus cheers immediately. Everyone else looks slightly more intimidated by the idea, although Luther is supportive.

“I have to get you all presents?” Five asks with a frown. “Do I actually like you enough to do that?”

“I’ll take you,” Diego offers, sighing heavily and dropping his head onto his crossed arms. 

“Oh, can you take me too?” Klaus asks, poking the back of Diego’s head. 

Diego glares and slaps him away. “No.”

“What?! Why will you take Five but not me? Diego, I’m your favorite brother!”

“One, no you’re not—”

“—then who is? What the fuck, Diego?”

“Two, when are you gonna learn to drive man? I’m driving Five because he’s thirteen fucking years old.”

“You know,” Five says, “I think I might be a better driver than Klaus.”

“I’ve never seen either of you drive,” Allison says, “and I know it’s probably irresponsible to say this, but I believe that. Just, you know, knowing both of you.”

“I’m wounded,” Klaus says. “You wound me.”

“No, I can confirm,” Diego says. “Five is better.”

“Wait what?” Luther jumps in. “Diego, did you seriously let him drive?”

“Just in a parking lot!” Diego defends. “And that’s more than I’d ever let Klaus drive. He's lucky I let him _touch_ my car.”

“He’ll never get his license if no one teaches him though,” Five says. Klaus points at him, nodding vigorously with his mouth full of a ginormous bite of ice cream.

“I’m not teaching Klaus,” Diego says. “Not my job.”

“But you’ll teach Five?” Klaus asks, grinning and elbowing Diego’s side repeatedly. “Aw, Diego that’s so sweet—”

“Shut the hell up,” he growls.

“I also think it’s sweet,” Mom says. She seems to be having a bit of a hard time following the fast-paced conversation and arguing, but her genuine smile never falters. Diego glares at the table, since there’s no way he’d ever glare at Mom.

“He’s thirteen,” Allison says. “He shouldn’t be learning to drive in the first place.”

“It was just a parking lot!”

“So who’s teaching me?” Klaus asks, pulling the conversation back onto him.

“Not it,” Diego says immediately, putting a single finger on his nose.

The rest of the table stays silent, everyone looking around at each other. “I can’t drive either,” Luther admits quietly, looking almost distraught.

“Me either,” Vanya says. “I walk or take a cab usually. Sometimes the bus.”

“You shouldn’t do that,” Diego snaps angrily. Vanya startles slightly. “This city is dangerous.”

“It’s dangerous for me too,” Klaus whines. “I’m just as delicate as Vanya!”

“Then learn to drive, man!”

“You won’t teach me!”

“Allison will teach you.”

Allison reels back. “I will not. I don’t have a death wish. I’ll teach Vanya or Luther though, if you guys want?”

“Why will no one teach me?” Klaus complains, smacking his palms against the table for emphasis.

“I’ll teach you, Klaus,” Five says with a grin.

Never let it be said that the Hargreeves never agree on anything, because all at once, there is a loud, collective, “No!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Hargreeves family christmas shenanigans


	14. December 25th, 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quiet morning is interrupted by Klaus bounding into the kitchen, a slipping and sliding mess of flailing limbs. “It’s Five’s first Christmas! Merry first Christmas, Fivey!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, writing a christmas chapter in july? It's more likely than you think
> 
> It was also really hard to write christmas fluff out of season so sorry it's not quite as long as i'd wanted it to be

Five wakes up bright and early on Christmas morning. However, unlike most kids his age, it’s not to run downstairs and open presents and start the festivities. He’s up early because he’s been woken up at 6:00 a.m. every day for the past thirteen years, and that sort of conditioning is hard to shake, especially when you don’t know any other sort of alternative. The only time he’s ever slept in is when he’s been injured or utterly exhausted—and really he still would have rather not. He’s a busy guy, with a lot of stuff to do, and he’d rather not waste it lazing around.

His siblings, apparently, share no such sentiment. 

Diego and Luther are both asleep in the living room, apparently having failed to make it through last night's mission to decorate the house. Luther is slumped up against the wall by the still half-decorated tree, tinsel falling on his face and fluttering every time he lets out an exhaling snore. Diego is leaning against his shoulder, Christmas ornaments spilling off of his lap to roll across the floor. Five raises an eyebrow but lets them be. It’s a rare sight, Diego and Luther in the same room and not at each other’s throats. 

He finds Allison alone at the kitchen table, a closed laptop in front of her and the remnants of tears drying on her cheeks. She swipes them away hastily when she sees him.

“What’s wrong?” he demands, ready to jump into action in her defense. 

“Nothing, nothing,” she waves him off, actually smiling. Five can’t comprehend it. “I was just talking to Claire. That’s all. This is, uh, this is my first Christmas away from her.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Really. And she, uh, she called me, which means she must—she must miss me.”

“Well, yeah, you’re her family.”

Allison stares at him for a long moment before chuckling. “Never change, Five.”

He frowns. “I don’t plan on it. Did you have a nice chat?”

“Yeah, yeah I did. It was good to see her face again.”

Vanya appears then, yawning and heading straight for the coffeemaker. “Good morning,” she mumbles.

“Good morning,” Allison replies. “Merry Christmas.”

Vanya turns, smiling. “Oh yeah. Merry Christmas, guys.”

“So what does this entail exactly?” Five asks, sliding into the seat across from Allison. Vanya joins them a moment later, slumping over her coffee in the seat next to Five.

“I mean, everyone has different traditions,” Allison says. “Claire and I used to do some of Patrick’s family’s, but I don’t really want to do those now.”

“I guess we’ll just have to make our own,” Vanya says with a shrug. “New Hargreeves family traditions.” Sounds a lot better than the family traditions Five knows. Of course, they won’t be his traditions, not for a long, long time at least. But he can at least enjoy them this year. One Christmas should be enough to tide him over for the next sixteen years, right?

Allison smiles that warm and gentle smile that Five has been seeing so much lately, the one with the closed lips but crinkled up around the eyes. He’s learning so many new mannerisms from these different versions of his siblings. The differences used to scream that this wasn’t his family, but he’s starting to find it difficult to find as many faults with those differences. His siblings live more openly now, more freely. More happily. Back in 2002, Five had been fighting tooth and nail for them to have a shred of that kind of authenticity.

The quiet morning is interrupted by Klaus bounding into the kitchen, a slipping and sliding mess of flailing limbs. “It’s Five’s first Christmas! Merry first Christmas, Fivey!”

“It’s everyone’s first Christmas,” Luther says. He and Diego appear in the doorway after Klaus, both looking disheveled and embarrassed, making sure to keep at least three feet between them at all times. Five smirks. “Um, except for Allison, I guess.”

“I’ve celebrated a little bit,” Diego says, leaning against the doorframe. “Got a gift a couple years ago for my, uh, girlfriend at the time.”

“My orchestra did a party,” Vanya says. “But I didn’t… go…”

“None of that counts,” Allison says, shaking her head. 

“Merry first Christmas, everyone except for Allison!” Klaus shouts, making most of them jump slightly. Luther looks slightly like Klaus just startled him back awake again. “Merry regular Christmas, Allie.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Thanks, Klaus.”

“So,” he says, grin wide as he claps his hands once. “Presents?”

“Shouldn’t we eat breakfast first?” Luther asks.

“Of course not.” Klaus waves him off. “After presents it’s cookie time!”

“It’s what?” Allison asks, clearly amused by Klaus’s antics. She always did have the most patience for them, after Ben.

“Cookie time! Look, I’ve been reading up on this whole Christmas thing. Tree, check. Decorations, check. Presents, soon to be a check. We still have to do the hot cocoa and the Christmas cookies and the pajama movie marathon.”

“What’s happening right now?” Luther asks, staring back and forth between Allison and Klaus, expecting someone to have some sort of explanation. 

“You did research?” Five says, raising an eyebrow.

“I did,” Klaus replies with a proud grin. “You know, you’re not the only one who can look stuff up, Five.”

Diego snorts. “What are you talking about? Five doesn’t even know how to use today’s computers.”

“I do to! It just took a brief… adjustment period.”

“Uh huh—”

“Calm down, children,” Klaus interrupts. “No arguing during present time.”

Present opening is a little chaotic, what with seven people, one slightly confused chimpanzee, and a robot involved in the process. Especially considering the fact that pretty much everyone got presents for everyone else.

Diego did in fact take Five to get presents for his family. Diego was done shopping in less than ten minutes, so Five made him stand in the corner and wait while he took his sweet time. Sure, all of this is going to get erased, but that doesn’t mean he can’t get decent presents for his siblings while he’s in this timeline. He got Luther a little potted plant, Diego a nice blanket that Five can steal if he ever stays with his brother again, Allison some simple earrings, and Klaus a nice looking green scarf. Mom got an adult coloring book, which is the closest thing he could find to art supplies, and he got a box set of some classics for Pogo, since Dad rarely allowed any fiction in the house. He’ll give Ben’s present to him later; it’s a gift card for the movie theatre, so he can Klaus can see more movies. For Vanya he got a little silver charm bracelet. It has space for more charms, but he started her out with a simple little violin.

Vanya hugs him tightly after she opens his present, and immediately gets Allison to help her put it on. Klaus ruffles his hair and Luther thanks him with a small but warm smile and Mom squeezes his hand in thanks—Five gets so caught up in watching his siblings that he forgets about the small pile of presents at his own feet until Vanya nudges at them with her foot.

Some of his siblings are woefully boring in their gift buying (Luther got everyone different candles and Vanya bought them all socks) and their wrapping jobs are all ridiculous. Both Luther and Diego either didn’t know or didn’t bother to wrap their gifts, and Klaus wrapped everything in literal garbage. Five tears open a duct taped cereal box to find the book Klaus got for him.

He looks over at Klaus, bewildered, and his brother leans over to whisper to him, “Ben picked it out. We also got you a bookmark, because Ben says that if he has to watch you dog ear your page one more time he’s going to go absolutely bonkers.”

“Absolutely bonkers, huh?” Five repeats, grinning.

“His exact words,” Klaus swears. 

“Well, we can’t have that. Thanks. Both of you.” He smacks Klaus away when he tries to ruffle his hair again.

 

It’s Allison who all but drags Five into the kitchen for the cookie-making extravaganza. Despite it being Klaus’s idea, their brother had decided that while cookie  _ eating _ was right up his alley, he would rather leave the actual baking to the rest of them. In the end, it’s Five, Diego, Allison, and thankfully Mom that wind up in the kitchen making a gigantic, flour-coated mess. Five hates the feeling of flour grating against his skin, a fact which Diego takes full advantage of, trying to wipe his dirty hands on Five while he jumps away and Allison suffers in the background.

The cookies are edible, and actually good once they coat them with cheap, colorful icing. Five takes it upon himself to make all of his siblings out of gingerbread, making sure to make gingerbread Klaus extra ridiculous in retaliation for that horrible mug he made. Diego thinks it’s the best thing he’s ever seen, and actually asks Mom if they have a way to frame it. It’s short lived, because Klaus almost immediately snatches it out of Diego’s hand and bites his own gingerbread head off.

“Hey!” Five complains. “I worked hard on that.”

“Sucks doesn’t it,” says Klaus, crumbs spraying as he talks with his mouth full. “To have your hard work go unappreciated.”

“The mug was terrible, Klaus,” Allison says. “Let it go.”

“Thank you!” Five says to his sister. 

“But so are these cookies, Five. Did you use uncooked pasta for my hair? What, am I supposed to eat this raw pasta?”

“It has icing,” he defends. Five is actually pretty proud himself for that one. He thinks the spiral pasta is a good match for Allison's new hair.

“No thanks.” She screws up her face and holds it out and away from her, looking on in disgust.

“I’ll try it!” Klaus says, swiping the cookie from Allison. He bites down on the cookie’s curly hair and chews… and chews and chews and chews. “It’s real crunchy,” he manages around his mouthful. “But I don’t hate it.”

Diego scoffs. “Well, you’ll eat anything.”

“Not true. I have a very sophisticated palate, Diego. And like you’re one to talk!”

“Even I wouldn’t eat  _ that. _ ”

“Hey,” Vanya says, taking advantage of their brothers’ bickering to slide up beside Five and hand him something. He glances down. It’s another gingerbread person, with chocolate icing hair and a painted-on scowl. 

“What the hell is this?” he asks her.

“You didn’t make yourself, so I did it for you.”

“This is me?”

“Uh huh. He’s mad at all the other gingerbread siblings for annoying him.”

Five snorts. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” Vanya smiles. “I gotta admit, I saw it on a TV show. But, I figured since you’re too good for TV, I could get away with it.”

“Makes me feel a little bit bad that I ate your arm,” Five says, holding up the rest of Vanya’s cookie.

Vanya gasps—hanging out so much as a family may have caused some of Klaus’s dramatics to rub off on the rest of them—and grabs the cookie. “Poor mini Vanya.”

“At least it’s not her violin arm.”

Vanya makes a face. “Both arms are my violin arms, Five. It takes two arms.”

“Huh. Oh well. Worth it.”

“Give me back angry Five,” she says, holding her hand out for the cookie. “I want revenge.”

Five holds it up and away from her, only for Diego to grab it from him while his back is turned and eat the thing in two bites.

“Can no one in this family just ask for things nicely?” Five snaps, rounding on Diego.

“Behave, boys,” Allison says with a smirk. “It’s a holiday.”

 

Klaus, with his ridiculous research, compiled a list of holiday movies for them to marathon. Five would like to say that there was one sibling in particular who talked throughout them, complaining the whole entire time, but that would be a lie. They all complain, even Vanya, although hers are mostly hissed in Five’s direction, while Klaus tries horribly to defend their cheesy, unrealistic plotlines and borderline creepy animation or ridiculous effects.

“It’s part of the Christmas experience!”

Honestly, even with all the bickering, it’s about a thousand percent more civil than most Hargreeves family bonding experiences. Five has to admit that he really prefers it when his siblings get along. 

He could get used to this Christmas sort of thing, especially the peppermint hot chocolate Mom and Allison made. Diego gave Five three bags of marshmallows as presents, and by the end of the day he's down to only two left.

Three movies later and Vanya is passed out on Five’s shoulder, her mouth hanging open and breathing small puffs of warm air onto his neck. On his other side, Diego has his head tipped back against the couch, one leg sprawled over Five’s. Luther is in a similar position in the middle of his own couch, Klaus curled up on one side of him, Allison on the other. Ben is around somewhere, Five is sure of it. He’s probably still perched on the arm of the couch next to Diego. At least, that’s where Klaus had implied he was earlier in the evening. He might have moved.

Mom smiles at Five, dutifully starting up the next movie on Klaus’s list, even if no one but Five is currently alive to watch it. And honestly, he’s not sure how much he has left in him either. He’s warmer and cozier than he’s pretty much ever been, and the sound of Luther’s snoring is surprisingly calming. 

Five watches the first ten minutes of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer before letting himself drift off as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Five has some interesting thoughts about the new year...


	15. January 1st, 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s high time he gets back to actual training, not just working on his equations or jumping out of the room whenever Diego starts lecturing or Klaus gets weird.

Five flips the page of his book. It’s strange, he’s been turning the pages for a while now, but he can’t quite remember what book it is. Maybe he needs a break. Vanya is always saying that he should take more breaks.

He shuts his book, leaning over to see what Ben is reading instead. They’re sitting on Five’s bed, shoulder to shoulder, both in their own worlds. Five turns, resting his chin on Ben’s shoulder. Ben snorts quietly, but doesn’t move, just slides his book closer to five and turns the page again.

In the corner sit Diego and Luther. Five keeps waiting for the sound of their fighting to interrupt what is actually a pleasant afternoon, but nothing happens. Diego is showing Luther his knives, and Luther is listening with rapt attention. Diego even lets Luther hold one, which is strange; Diego is very protective of his knives and never lets anyone else touch them, especially since the incident that left him with a thick scar slicing across his temple. 

In another corner, Vanya and Allison are getting along. They sit with Klaus, whispering and giggling as they paint each other’s nails. It’s nice to see Vanya getting along with them. Normally Allison and Klaus would probably think Vanya is too boring to hang out with. She’s their sister, sure, but free time is rare and precious, and Klaus and Allison don’t prefer the quiet that Vanya carries the same way Five and Ben do. Still, this is a nice change of pace. Vanya seems happy.

Five smiles, letting his eyes fall closed, just to rest them for a little bit. Ben turns another page.

It’s in that moment that the door is thrown open with a loud bang, startling Five out of his relaxed stupor. His eyes fly open, snapping his head up and away from Ben to face see their father looming in the doorway.

“What is going on here?”

Five jumps to his feet, moving to stand between his father and the rest of his siblings. He glares defiantly up at him as the room falls silent around him. 

“Teambuilding, Dad,” Five hisses, plastering on his smug smile. “You want us to be a good team, right?”

_ Protect Vanya, she’s not a part of the team. Keep the focus off of her, and Dad can’t get mad.  _

_ Luther and Diego. You can’t let Dad pit them against each other. Allison either. Don’t let him use the numbers to manipulate anyone. They don’t mean anything. If you keep the focus on you, then he won’t even bother to say any of their numbers. And your number is your name, so it can’t hurt you. _

_ Klaus—same as Vanya. Keep the attention off of him, so he doesn’t have to have more individual training. Note to self: figure out what the hell Dad does to Klaus during his training. _

_ Protect Ben. Protect Ben because… Protect Ben or else… Protect Ben, don’t let him… _

Dad ignores him, as if he never spoke. Five hates that, hates being ignored, but then Dad steps into the room and suddenly he has much bigger problems.

Dad reaches out, passing straight through Five as if he’s a ghost. Panic floods his veins as he whirls around, watching as the room devolves into chaos. There’s varying levels of terror and anger as each sibling throws the others under the bus just to try and save their own skin. Five shouts and snaps, trying to get someone’s attention,  _ anyone’s, _ but no one can hear him. Vanya cowers in a corner, alone. Diego and Luther scream at each other, with Allison coming to Luther’s defense. Klaus watches, waiting, looking tired and resigned. 

And Ben… Ben wanders aimlessly throughout the room. He flickers slightly, and Five realizes sharply that he can see straight through his favorite brother. Ben goes to stand beside Klaus, his hand passing through his shoulder when he tries to comfort him. Looking heartbroken, Ben moves to break up Diego and Luther next, waving his hands and shouting their names. Nothing. Finally, he goes to Vanya, and Vanya looks straight through him. 

Ben turns, finally facing Five, who’s finding it unbelievably difficult to move. But Ben is actually looking at Five, the only one to really see him.

“Do something,” Ben begs. Ben knows. Ben knows how Five is, knows what Five does. Come on, he’s too smart not to.

“I’m trying!” Five tugs on his own limbs, but they won’t budge. He can’t do anything but watch helplessly.

He can’t do anything as Dad drags Klaus away, and Luther, Allison, and Diego follow to go their own separate ways, shooting glares at each other as they go. Ben shoots Five one last sad look before trailing after Klaus and Dad.

That leaves Vanya, alone in Five’s room. She sits in the corner, her bangs hanging down over her eyes as she ducks her head against her knees. Beside her sits a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich, untouched. Five watches her cry quietly, his own voice lodged in his throat. Finally, she stands up, leaving the sandwich, and hurries out the door. She passes straight through Five, and the empty room evaporates around him.

Five peels his eyes open to stare at the ceiling above his bed. Reality slowly sinks back in as the stress and nerves fade away. 

Just a dream, then. And an odd one at that—he’s much more likely to dream about the space-time continuum than his family. He doesn’t understand it, and he hates things that he can’t understand. One thing is for sure though, it’s stressing him out.

A quick glance at the clock tells him that it’s 6:07 a.m., and a slightly longer look at the calendar he stole from Luther reminds him that it’s January 1st. 2019. He’s no longer in 2018, he’s stayed here long enough,  _ stuck, _ for the year to change. 

And he’s fallen behind on his training. Horribly, dangerously behind. He’s become  _ useless. _

It’s high time he gets back to actual training, not just working on his equations or jumping out of the room whenever Diego starts lecturing or Klaus gets weird. 

He gets dressed quickly, putting on the stiff, dusty uniform for the first time in months. He has to back into his old headspace, put all this “relaxing” and “bonding” nonsense behind him. Dad is a crazy and sadistic bastard, but he knows how to get results, and Five is willing to employ his methods in order to improve himself (even if he wants the rest of his family as far away as possible).

One quick jump and he lands in his personal training room. It’s dark, and the lights flicker when he flips the switch, only half of them actually turning on. It’s clear that it hasn’t been used in around sixteen years. He brushes past most of the training equipment, not that there’s very much of it—Dad prefers to use the real world in his training, since it’s more realistic—and beelines for the closet. 

He’d always hated watching Dad stride over to this same closet; its contents meant for one of Five’s least favorite types of training. Continuous jumping, no biggie. He’s good at it, actually, and always willing to try and push past his limits. Electrocution is no fun, but he’s gotten good at those exercises, and hasn’t really dreaded them since he was around nine years old. But restraints are the worst. He  _ hates _ restraint training, abhors it.

But he also knows how important it is. If someone were to take him and his siblings hostage, he has to be able to get them out of there. He has to be able to jump out of anything, and he can’t rely on something as trivial and silly as moving his arms slightly to pull him through his jumps.

Dad is right. He has to be able to jump anywhere, anytime.

Five grabs the straightjacket from the shelf and shivers involuntarily, his hands slightly shaky as he clutches it with white knuckles. God, he hates the stupid thing. It gets the job done though.

“Diego!” he shouts, teleporting into the kitchen and ignoring the way his brother nearly jumps out of his ugly spandex getup. 

“What the hell, Five?! Wait, why are you wearing—”

“Shut up, Diego, I need your help.”

“With what?”

“I need you to fasten this for me.” He waves the straightjacket in Diego’s face.

Diego blinks, staring at Five like he’d spoken in a foreign language. “What?”

He waves the straightjacket more insistently, stepping closer to his brother. Diego leans away from him, staring at the thing like it’s a flaming beehive. “Fasten. This. On. Me,” Five speaks slowly, since Diego’s clearly an idiot.

“What? No! What the fuck—Why?”

“I need to train.”

Diego’s eyes are in danger of bugging straight out of his head. “And this is the way to do that?!”

“Yes. Diego, I think I’d know more about my own training than you.”

“What the hell? Is this your usual training? Did Dad lock you up or something?”

Five stares. “Yes, Diego. I have to learn to jump out of restraints.”

“No. No way, Five. I’m not doing that. That’s fucked up! No fucking way.”

“Fine!” Five glares. “I’ll get someone else to do it.”

His siblings are total assholes. All of them refuse to help him, just stare at him like he’s crazy, or tell him as much. Ben wants to have some sort of chat, according to Klaus, but Five just jumps away. He doesn’t have time for this.

Luther. That’s who he needs. Luther always understood why they trained, why they fought. Maybe their ideology didn’t always quite line up, but Luther was a dutiful member of the academy, and the only one other than Five who actually wanted his training and truly understood its value. Surely, he’ll understand what Five is doing.

“I don’t understand,” Luther says, staring down at the straightjacket in his giant hands. “Why are you doing this? How will this help you get back?”

Five scoffs. “It’s not about getting back, Luther. It’s making sure I haven’t fallen behind by the time I do get back. I haven’t trained properly in months. And since Dad isn’t here, you get to be him for me.”

Luther blanches, the color draining out of his face so quickly that Five is scared he’ll be sick. “No way.” His grip tightens on the straightjacket, although the look on his face more clearly depicts that he would rather get the thing as far away from him as possible.

“Why not?” Five demands. “This my training, Luther. I need to train.”

“You don’t need to train, Five. Not like this.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t. Dad was wrong.”

Five freezes in his rebuttal, mouth slightly ajar. Never, in his entire life, has he ever, even in his wildest dreams, heard those words come from Luther’s mouth.

“You’re a kid,” Luther continues. 

“A kid with powers,” Five grits out. “Powers that need to be  _ trained. _ ”

“Sure,” he nods. “But not like this. Five, you have more control over your powers than all of us combined, and we have sixteen years on you. I broke a plate  _ yesterday. _ I’m almost thirty.”

“I can be better. I have to be better. I have to be able to jump anywhere, anytime.”

“Five…”

“And this is the way to do it! It’s the only way to learn.”

“There has to be another way, Five. A better way.”

“Why? What’s wrong with this way?”

“Because! I’m pretty sure this is…” Luther’s face goes slightly slack. “This is child abuse.” He looks down at the straightjacket, shaking it slightly. “This is  _ child abuse. _ ”

“Maybe,” Five agrees. “But it’ll help me get better. And we were never just kids anyway. You know what Dad always says—”

“No,” Luther says. He looks a little like he just might puke on Five’s shoes and more than a little like he’s about to go have yet another breakdown. “Sorry, Five. Find another way. When you figure out a safe, healthy way to train, I’ll be more than happy to help. I’ll be there with a glass of water and one of your ridiculous sandwiches, but I won’t do this. I won’t lock you up and leave you to try and fight your own way out. I won’t be Dad.”

Five levels his most intimidating glare at his brother, but Luther doesn’t budge. He doesn’t look quite confident in his decision, but he sticks with it, even when Five makes to grab the straightjacket back from him. Luther simply tightens his grip and holds it up out of reach, and even with all of Five’s powers, tug-of-war against a brother with super strength is always a losing battle. He glares at Luther one last time before jumping away with a huff.

Luther is  _ wrong. _ There is no better way. There is no other way. There is no magical, super easy way to get better. It takes blood and sweat and no, not tears, just those first two things.

Five is muttering those very things as he paces back and forth, glaring down at the floor and waving his hands wildly.

“Stupid Luther. Why did you choose now to have a stupid identity crisis? I mean, yeah, great for you, glad to know you actually have your own brain in that skull, but it’s really inconvenient!”

The sound of someone clearing their throat snaps him out of his mumbled tirade. He freezes, looking up to see Vanya sitting on the bed, a book face down in her lap. “Whatcha doin?”

He looks around, surprised to find that it takes a moment for him to recognize his surroundings. “This… isn’t my room.”

“Nope,” Vanya agrees. “It’s mine.”

“Great,” he groans. “Just more proof that I need to be training properly. I haven’t jumped into the wrong place in forever.”

She chuckles. “You’re just one room off. Not a huge deal.” He stares at her as flatly as possible. “Okay, maybe it is a teeny tiny deal,” she amends. 

“It’s a big deal.” He sighs. “I don’t suppose you would go get my training straightjacket back from Luther would you?”

Vanya stares, almost smiling in her bewilderment. “No.”

“Figures,” Five huffs, sitting down hard on the bed next to his sister.

“Why did Luther steal you straightjacket. Wait, why do you have a straightjacket?”

“I guess it technically belongs to Dad, but who cares.”

“Right. And why does he have a straightjacket?”

“For my training. I have to jump out of it.”

“Ah.” Vanya nods slowly, an unreadable expression on her face. “Luther was right then. About the straightjacket at least.”

He stares at her. “Not you too, Vanya. You’re supposed to be my most sensible sibling. You know I need to train.”

“I didn’t know that that’s how you trained! Otherwise I would have told you a long time ago that it was wrong."

"I know that it's... that it's wrong. I know. Believe me, I don't enjoy it."

"Then why are you so determined to do this?"   
  
He sighs. “I’ve been here for a long time, Vanya. It’s a whole new year.”

“That's what this is about? I thought we already had this conversation. You’ll be able to jump back as if no time passed.”

“But it pass, at least for me. Almost six months have passed for me. I’m falling behind. Why have I not been training this whole time, Vanya? Why am I so stupid?”

“It’s not stupid. You’ve had other things on your mind, like getting back. How’s that going, by the way?”

She’s distracting him, changing the subject, but it’s not like it matters, not while Luther still has his stupids hands on the straightjacket. He might even magically team up with Diego to keep Five from getting the thing back, he’d looked that upset. Once again, curse Luther’s untimely realization that Dad was a piece of shit.

“It’s… going,” he answers.

Vanya hums. “You’ll get it. I know you will.”

“Yeah, it’s just incredibly complex stuff. But you know what, I think ending up stuck here was actually a good thing. It’s been… enlightening, seeing the way you all turn out.”

She snorts. “Enlightening, huh?”

“Yep. Very enlightening. You’re all giant disasters and man-children.”

She laughs. “So, um, what are you gonna do when you get back?”

“I have a list of things, actually,” he says. “Stuff I plan on changing. Would you like to hear it?”

“Sure.” 

He rummages through his pocket before pulling out a small spiral notebook and flipping it open. 

Vanya muffles a laugh behind her hand. “Oh wow, you have an actual written list. Okay.” 

“Of course I do. Best way to organize your thoughts is to write them down.”

“I thought you had like a photographic memory or something.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Vanya,” Five says, rolling his eyes. “I don’t need one.”

She laughs for real, leaning over to see his list of changes. 

“ _ Ben, _ ” she reads, her voice cracking slightly. That’s the first thing on the list, just Ben’s name. It was the very first thing Five wrote down after discovering that he was stuck. His handwriting on the word is shakier than usual, he hopes Vanya doesn’t notice that. 

Five moves along quickly, not wanting to dwell on Ben’s death any longer. 

“ _ Klaus—private training? _ ” she reads. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure yet. But I’ll get him to tell me.”

“How are you gonna do that? None of you ever talked about your training.”

“I don’t know, Vanya. Bribery? Trick him somehow? He’s not that bright.”

“Don’t be mean,” she chides, almost absently.

“I just meant in comparison to myself. All I know is, there’s a correlation between Klaus’s private training and the increase in… recreational activities. Clearly, this is the key to cutting off his addiction at its head.”

“Okay.” Vanya nods. “Makes sense. What else do you have?  _ Allison—consequences. _ What the hell does that mean?”

Five shrugs. “If she learns that her powers have consequences earlier, maybe she won’t rumor her daughter.”

“Maybe she won’t  _ have _ a daughter,” Vanya mutters.

Five looks over at her. “You think everything about her life is because of the rumors?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m not even sure she knows.”

“Well, either way, it’s for the best.”

“You’re being very cavalier with our sister’s life, Five.”

“I’m just doing what she asked me to do.”

“Really? She asked you to get her to stop rumoring people as a teenager? How would that even work? She’s  _ The Rumor. _ ”

“No, but she asked me to try and get through to her, keep her from screwing up her life so much.”

“So she wanted you to what? Train with her?”

He waves her off. “Of course not. She asked me to, get this, spend more time with her so I could try and talk some sense into her.”

“Oh.” Vanya looks away, staring at the floor with a distant expression on her face. She frowns. “You know, I could help you.”

“You’re going to talk some sense into thirteen-year-old Allison? No offense, Vanya, but you don’t really have the same experience we do. Allison would never listen to you. No offense.”

“That’s not what I meant. I just meant that you don’t have to be alone with your list. Or any part of it really. The training, the future... I could help you with it. I would believe you, I swear.”

“Vanya, you’re already on the list. See?” He points to the bullet point that just reads  _ Vanya—same as always. _

“Not what I meant,” she repeats. “You should let me help you with the others. You can tell me, Five. You can tell me all about,” she leans over to read more, “getting less practice time for Diego or getting through to Luther. You can tell me your plans, Five, and you can tell me about your training. Especially if you're getting hurt. I can help. You don’t always have to be on your own. Let me... let me be a good sister.”

He almost says yes. He almost makes that promise. He’s so, so close to opening his mouth and telling her the truth, that Vanya and Ben are  _ safe,  _ that back in 2002, they’re the only ones who he can relax even slightly around.

But he can’t. Because they’re not safe  _ enough. _ And it’s a slippery slope; letting his walls all the way down around Vanya and Ben leads to letting them down around Klaus, and then Diego and Allison and Luther and then what’s even the point of having walls in the first place? That’s too many people, and it won’t work anymore if Dad figures it out. No, his mission is best done in secret. It doesn’t matter if he’s a little bit more tired, a little bit more sore, and a little bit lonely, then so be it. It’s worth it if it means he’s not helpless to Dad.

Even if, somewhere deep in his chest, all he wants is to try new things with Klaus and Ben and watch silly movies with Allison and celebrate various holidays with his siblings, he knows that he can’t. All this has been a silly, childish adventure, but it’s time to go home now.

 

* * *

 

_ Update: _

_ Concerns event: Apocalypse _

 

_ Observation has shown us that although the Hargreeves are remarkably dysfunctional, it is ingrained it most of them to come together in the event of violence. It has also been seen that Number Five, as well as the rest of his siblings, has no greater weakness than his love for his family. Putting a couple of them in ample danger should suffice to motivate Number Five to connect more to his siblings, which we will need to ensure the apocalypse happens just as we intend. They have to get even closer. _

_ Please try not to kill the boy—he has a very different role to play in all this, and it would be a shame to see him die just yet. _

 

_ Note: Vanya Hargreeves must not be harmed, AT ALL COSTS. The others are free game. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go guys
> 
> Also if anyone's interested, you can also hit me up on tumblr @ ema--vee


	16. January 2nd, 2019, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego runs into the picture, knives already flying. Five offers a tiny wave when he Diego spots him, almost laughing at the way his brother’s eyes go wide. “What the hell is he doing here?” Diego screams at Luther. 
> 
> “You try and get him to leave!” Luther yells back. He knocks a guy out with a single sloppy punch. “He’s stubborn!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains blood and violence, as well pretty casual fighting/killing done by a kid. Reginald absolutely raised these kids to have no qualms against violence or murder, even when not strictly necessary, so even though Five is thirteen, he’s still gonna kill some commission goons… I’ve also decided to add the archive warning for graphic descriptions of violence just to be safe

Five didn’t come down for family dinner last night. He also didn’t come down for breakfast, or lunch. In fact, his door has remained steadfastly shut since yesterday.

Luther stands outside of Five’s room, a peanut butter sandwich on a plate in his hand and a glass of water tucked under one arm. He knocks on the locked door again, but Five doesn’t answer.

“Five?” he calls. “You missed breakfast, so I brought you lunch.”

No answer. 

“Five?” he asks again, rapping his knuckles against the wood. “Come on, bud. You don’t… you don’t have to open up, I just… I would just like to know that you’re alive in there.” He chuckles half-heartedly. 

“Alive,” comes Five’s muffled voice. He sounds distracted. “Busy. Go away.”

“Um, alright. That’s—that’s all I wanted, I guess. Okay, I’ll just… I’ll just leave this out here, okay? If you want it. It’s important to eat. Um, that’s all. Have a good time with your math.”

Again, Five says nothing. Luther sighs and sets the sandwich and water down on the floor in the hallway.

“Right. Bye.”

He sighs, feeling heaving. Allison thinks it’s probably just because Five is stressed, which makes sense. He’s been stuck here for several months now, and Five really doesn’t do well with failure. 

But still, Luther feels like this is partially his fault. Maybe he should have just gone along with Five, strapped him into that straightjacket and let him train. After all, he’s used to it. Five has always pushed himself to his limits in training. It’s just what he does. And wouldn’t it be better for him to do that training here and now, where they can help him afterwards?

The thought of it, though, makes his stomach churn. Five doesn’t like small spaces. He never has. Back when they were kids, Luther—doing his job as Number One—paid close attention to the team on missions. He needed to know their strengths and weaknesses, and Five had been no exception, even if his brother would never admit that he actually had any faults. So Luther had paid attention, and he’d seen his brother scared. Five would get jittery and slightly pale and even more sniping than usual whenever he was in tight spaces or anywhere he couldn’t get out of.

That one mission makes a lot more sense now. Luther doesn’t remember the details—they weren’t even thirteen when it happened—but he does remember what happened after. It’s always sat wrong with him, confused him to no end. 

Five’s powers had been exhausted after jumping so much (to get hostages to safety or something? Again, he’s fuzzy on the details.) and Luther and Five had been riding down in the building’s elevator. 

He remembers it because it had been so unexpected. Five had grimaced when they first entered the elevator, but he’d been fine, for the most part his usual surly self. Then, the elevator had shuddered to a stop, lights flickering. They both stumbled, and Five ended up latching onto Luther’s arm for stability. What was odd, though, was how long it took for Five to let go. He held on, his fingers digging into Luther’s arm hard enough to bruise if Luther hadn’t been super durable as well as super strong. 

“You good?” he’d asked Five, and his brother’s arm had snapped back down to his side with a glare. At the time, he’d thought Five might be secretly injured. While they’d all hidden their injuries at one point or another, Five was the one most famous for it. 

“Fine.”

“You sure?” He squinted, searching for bruises and blood, but found nothing.

“Yes, Luther,” Five hissed.

“Alright. You wanna jump out of here and get some help?”

Five grimaced, fists clenching. “I can’t.”

Luther had nodded, understanding immediately. Five knew his limits better than anyone, and was always the first to try and push himself beyond them. If he said he was out, then he was out. 

“Well, someone’ll figure it out. They probably already know. Someone will come find us.”

Five nodded jerkily, pressing his back into the elevator wall. His hands gripped at the little railing around the side with white knuckles.

Luther hadn’t said anything about it, but maybe he should have. Instead, they waited in tense silence for nearly an hour while Five’s breathing hitched occasionally and all the blood stayed drained from his face. He kept trying to jump, blue light flickering around his hands simply to fizzle out until he was sweat-soaked and panting with effort. Five was always practical; he knew he couldn’t jump out—so why did he keep trying?

Because he was trapped. Because he was trapped and he couldn’t jump out, and apparently Dad had tied him up and strapped him down to try and train him out of that. 

His fearless brother was afraid of something. It seemed so  _ wrong. _

Now, he can see that was their dad’s fault. It wasn’t an accident or some villain that made Five afraid—it was the man who was supposed to be their father. How could he do that to them? They were  _ children. _

And… and Five wanted Luther to be Dad in his absence. That had been shattering. Luther would  _ never _ hurt his family like that. Not on purpose, at least—after decades of blindly following Dad’s orders, he can see now that he’d been a shitty Number One. He isn’t a leader, never has been. A leader would keep his team safe. A leader would think for himself, actually  _ lead. _

His whole life has been one big-ass lie, and he just kept swimming deeper and deeper, all because he wanted to believe that their dad loved them.

The others had figured it out long before this. They hadn’t wasted almost thirty years of their lives. They hadn’t gone to the fucking moon. They’d gotten out, back before Luther had even realized there was anything to escape.

Diego left to be a different sort of hero, one on his own terms. Allison chased her dream, built her own reputation. Klaus was a different story, but he clearly wanted to get away from the source of all his problems. Five didn’t mean to run away, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to stay, not like Luther. Ben never got the chance to leave. 

Vanya lived the most mundane life out of all of them, but even she clearly felt the need to get out. She wrote that book, she went to therapy. She wouldn’t go to therapy if there wasn’t something wrong.

Maybe Luther should try therapy. 

Hell, maybe they all should, Five included. God knows the kid won’t get the chance once he goes back, and clearly he needs it. Fuck. He’d handed Luther that fucking straightjacket and he’d  _ known. _ He’d known it was fucked up. He’s a  _ thirteen-year-old kid. _ This shouldn’t be his normal, all the fear and hurt and abuse. Five knows, has known for a long, long time that their lives were seriously fucked up. And he’d decided that it didn’t matter, that it was inevitable. He’d decided that his own health didn’t matter, not if he could be there to try and help his siblings through it.

Maybe a therapist is what it’ll take to get Five to get it, while he still has a chance. Luther doesn’t want Five to devote his whole life to something that will destroy him. He knows what that’s like. Five deserves better.

He should talk to the rest of his siblings about it. Vanya especially will surely have some insight, and if he can get them all on board, then there’s a larger chance that they’ll be able to convince Five to do it. After all, teleporting children can be tricky.

“Hey, guys,” he finds most of them in the living room, although he has to wake up a disgruntled Diego who was napping on the couch. “I wanted to talk about Five…”

Diego groans. “Again?”

“Yes, Diego,” he snaps. “Again. I’m worried about him.”

“We all are,” Vanya says quietly. “But there’s only so much we can do.”

He nods. “Actually, I was thinking, maybe—”

He’s cut off by a distant  _ thunk, _ followed by the sound of a door opening and multiple sets of heavy footsteps.

They all freeze. 

“Was that the front door?” Allison asks.

“Stay here,” Diego snaps, suddenly wide awake. “I’ll check it out.”

They wait in tense, nervous silence for what feels a lot longer than the minute it actually is before Diego returns. There’s no way that the grimace on Diego’s face can mean any sort of good news. Diego is a vigilante and a boxer—he doesn’t mind a fight. It can’t be a good sign if he’s worried.

“Bunch of guys,” he relays in a hushed voice. “I counted at least twenty. All of them armed. Weird gas masks.”

Luther nods, steeling himself for the fight and glancing around at the rest of the team. It’s been a while since any of them have done a mission, but hopefully it’s like riding a bike.

Vanya’s eyes are wide, her face pale, her hands gripping Allison’s arm.

“Oh, I did not sign up for this,” he hears Klaus murmur, biting his nails and peering out from behind Diego.

If Luther wants to be the leader, then he needs to start making the right calls, the calls that will help his family. Vanya isn’t part of the team, she isn’t trained, she shouldn’t be here. And Klaus—Luther’s having a hard time seeing how Klaus’s powers could be of much help to them here, even if he were… in the right frame of mind. 

“Go,” he waves at Klaus. “Get Vanya to safety. We’ll handle this.”

“Take Five with you,” Diego adds. Allison nods. 

“He won’t like that,” Klaus argues.

“I don’t care!” Diego snaps. “He doesn’t need to be involved in this.”

“Diego’s right,” Luther says. Every one of his siblings looks at him in surprise, most of all Diego. “He’ll just be a distraction. You and Vanya and Five go hide. Keep each other safe, alright?”

Klaus and Vanya nod, though Vanya looks especially shaky. Klaus tugs her away, both of them scrambling up the stairs towards Five’s room.

“What’s the plan now?” Allison asks.

“We take ‘em out,” Diego answers, and with that, he’s gone, disappeared around the corner and charging headfirst into danger.

“Guess we better keep him from getting himself killed,” Luther says with a sigh, following along.

Allison smirks beside him. “Guess so.”

 

* * *

 

Five slams his pen down on the desk, glaring up at the wall in frustration.

“Would you guys keep it down?” He can hear them yelling at each other from all the way up here.

The air goes quiet and Five nods to himself, picking his pen up and hunching back over his notebook. He manages to grab back his train of thought after just a moment of frustration and jumps right back into his work.

His moment of quiet is interrupted not a minute later, but this time it isn’t his siblings’ shouting.  _ Gunshots. _

Five’s head snaps up, ready to jump into action. He’s familiar with the sound of gunshots, possibly more so than any other sound. So should be his siblings, which means that what he’d been hearing wasn’t their usual loud bickering, but their panic. Whoops. 

Still gripping his pen in his hand, Five jumps straight into the hallway outside of his room. He has to help.

“Hey!” he whirls around, ready to jump at some goon’s neck with his pen, but it’s just Klaus and Vanya. He lowers his arm, even as his heart continues to hammer in his chest.

“We were just coming to find you,” Vanya says. She’s out of breath, her words spilling over each other in a breathy rush.

“Where are they?” Five asks, tilting his head to try and listen. Sounds like Dad’s bar maybe?

“Diego, Luther, and Allison are handling it,” Klaus says. “Come on.” He reaches out to grab Five’s arm, but Five leans away just before he can.

“No way. I’m going to help.”

“Five—”

“Are you serious? You’re serious. Okay, I’m not a baby. I can fight.”

“Look, we’re just following orders. I’m supposed to get you and Vanya to—”

“Screw you,” Five snaps. “Go get somewhere safe. I’ll come find you once they’re gone.”

He jumps away from them, landing in foyer where Luther is battling it out with several men in creepy gas masks. Strength versus numbers. Luther’s doing okay against them, but he used to be better. 

Ugh, is the whole Academy this rusty? For their sakes, he certainly hopes not.

Five leaps into action in his brother’s defense, jumping straight onto on one of the soldier’s backs and driving his pen into the guy’s jugular. He goes down with a gurgling noise that has Five’s stomach rolling, at least until he glances back over at Luther in time to watch him narrowly escape a gunshot to the chest.

They’re here to kill them. Sure, it’s not ideal, but Five is absolutely willing to kill in order to keep that from happening. These people made the dumbest decision of their lives choosing to attack his home like this.

“Five!” Luther yells over the general sounds of chaos and fighting. “What the hell are you doing here? Go find Klaus and Vanya!”

Five jumps out from between two soldiers, letting them do his dirty work and shoot at each other, and lands in front of Luther to glare at him. “Uh, no. Already found them.  _ You _ need my help.”

“Get to safety!”

“No thanks!” 

“Five!”

Ignoring Luther, he jumps over to one of the soldiers and uses his powers to swap out the guy’s gun for one of Klaus’s shoes. It’s been a while since he’s shot a gun himself, but as long as he doesn’t hit Luther in the crossfire he should be okay.

Diego runs into the picture, knives already flying. Five offers a tiny wave when he Diego spots him, almost laughing at the way his brother’s eyes go wide. “What the hell is he doing here?” Diego screams at Luther. 

“You try and get him to leave!” Luther yells back. He knocks a guy out with a single sloppy punch. “He’s stubborn!”

“Five!” Diego hurls knife after knife. “Go get to safety! Now!”

“No!”

“Really?” Luther conks some heads together as he berates Diego. “That’s the best you got? You think I didn’t try that?”

“Five!” Allison startles as she runs around the corner. There’s blood on her temple. “What are you doing here?!”

“Saving your asses,” Five growls. “Damnit,” he grumbles to himself. Out of ammo. He drops the gun, opting to return to his usual fighting style. It’s more fun, even if it’s slightly less effective and doesn’t give him the same advantage of keeping an eye on all his dumbass siblings.

“He’s being a dumbass!” Diego yells. 

“Five,” Luther tries again, “go find Vanya and Klaus!”

“Shut the hell up, Luther!” Five shouts back.

“Go find them so you can  _ protect _ them,” Allison tries as she takes down a soldier with a well-placed kick. “What if these guys find them?”

“They’ll be sitting ducks,” Luther adds.

Five rolls his eyes and jumps out of the line of fire again and pointing at the bannister where one of the soldiers is taking aim. Diego follows the motion and hurls a knife in that direction. “Oh, please. Klaus has all the same training as us. He can protect Vanya just fine. You just don’t want me here because you think I’m a baby!”

“We do not think you’re a baby,” Allison says. “We just—”

“Oh, leave it be!” Diego yells. “Whatever. He’s here, he’s helping. Stop distracting him!”

“Thank you,” Five huffs. He jumps over to Allison, the two of them easily falling back into their old patterns to take down one of the guys with ease. 

“I could have handled him on my own,” Allison complains, huffing and blowing a stray lock of hair off of her face.

“So could I,” Five says with a grin.

Five jumps throughout the fight, switching out the soldiers’ weapons for random household items and getting their attention just long enough for them to take each other out as he disappears from in between them. 

They make fairly quick work of the intruders, and soon enough Allison and Luther are taking off in different directions throughout the manor to look for any stragglers.

Five whirls around, searching for anything left to fight. The floor is littered with bodies, but the air is silent. The only thing left moving is Diego, who motions silently for Five to stay put while he does his thing. Part of him wants to run after Luther or Allison to see if they need help, but he’s slightly more interested in figuring out who the hell these guys are.

Diego kneels over one of the bodies, searching it for some sort of ID. The uneasy feeling in Five’s gut still hasn’t settled, so he keeps on the defensive, knees bent, fists clenched, eyes searching. 

_ There. _ He spots the soldier from across the room. He’s lurking in the shadows, and the blood on his jacket means that Diego probably thought he’d already gotten the guy. And his giant gun is trained on Diego’s back, and Five knows that if he gets this shot off, Diego will die. 

Five opens his mouth to tell Diego to move, but he can see the soldier begin to squeeze the trigger. There’s not enough time.

In that instant, Five doesn’t see a stranger, or some older, foreign copy of the Diego. He doesn’t even see a superpowered, knife-wielding vigilante. In that instant, all Five can see is his brother, and he’s in danger, and he doesn’t want him to die. 

_ He won’t let him die.  _

Five jumps without a moment’s hesitation. The bullet buries itself in his stomach.


	17. January 2nd, 2019, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego slings off his jacket and presses it down hard on Five’s stomach. Five whimpers—a sound Diego’s never heard his brother make—and his chest squeezes painfully. “Sorry, but I t-told… I told you to go with Klaus and Vanya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is way later than I intended it to be, but I got sick, and then this chapter fought me the whole way

Diego watches Five go down in slow motion.

He’d heard the shot and spun around immediately to see his brother standing there, his back to him, swaying slightly on his feet. For several moments too long, Diego can’t figure out what the hell just happened.

But then something clicks and he sees the gun and he sees Five wobble and the next thing he knows the lone remaining soldier is down, three different knives lodged in his torso.

“Five!” 

He turns around to see Five slump to the ground like all of his strings have been cut. Diego slides on his knees, falling hard at his brother’s side.

Five groans, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. 

“Hey, kid. St-stay… stay with me, alright?” Damn stutter, now’s not the time. 

(Five looks so pale. Has he always been this pale or is it blood loss? It can’t be blood loss yet. Right? There already seems to be a lot of blood.) 

Diego slings off his jacket and presses it down hard on Five’s stomach. Five whimpers—a sound Diego’s never heard his brother make—and his chest squeezes painfully. “Sorry, but I t-told… I told you to go with Klaus and Vanya.”

“Shut… up…” Five pants. “Saved… your stupid life.”

White hot anger flares through his veins. “I d-didn’t ask you to do that! You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t have done that, F-Five. You shouldn’t…” He grits his teeth tight and swallows hard, punctuating his words by pressing down harder on Five’s stomach. Five’s back arches and his head tips back as he continues to bite back sounds of pain. Diego hates it. “You shouldn’t have done this.”

Luther and Allison choose that moment to come stumbling back in. “Diego, did you—” 

There’s blood dripping from a cut on Allison’s forehead, and although it’s near impossible to tell if Luther’s hurt with that giant overcoat of his there’s definitely some blood somewhere, but Diego barely spares them a glance. He's too busy focusing all his efforts on Five, who had been writhing slightly but has now started to go very worryingly still. A whimper actually manages to escape Five when Diego presses down harder, but no way does Diego plan on apologizing for doing whatever’s necessary to keep his brother from bleeding out.

“Five?” Allison sounds more shocked than anything, like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. She punctuates this by swiping blood away from her eye.

“Go get Mom,” Diego snaps. They both stare down at him with wide eyes, seemingly frozen in place. “One of you go g-get M-mom!” he yells, when neither one moves a muscle. “Now!”

Finally they both take off, each of them heading in opposite directions yelling for Mom. 

Five is clearly in pain, and Diego isn’t helping that one bit. Tears leak out from the corners of his eyes; Diego can’t even remember the last time he’s seen Five cry. Maybe when they were six and Five sneeze-teleported himself down the stairs and broke his collarbone? 

For some reason, Diego wants nothing more than to reach out and grab Five’s hand and tell him that everything’s going to be okay, but he can’t. He has to focus on keeping Five’s blood where it belongs. Besides, it probably wouldn’t be very well-received. Diego had tried to comfort Five during the collarbone incident and he’d jumped away to hide alone in a closet for the next three hours.

“Why… why the fuck w-would you… would you…”

“Picture the word in your mind,” Five mumbles.

“Shut the f-fuck up,” Diego snaps at him. He instantly regrets it when Five goes silent, save for a long, low whine that escapes him. “I mean… t-talk to me, just not… not about th-that.”

He has no idea how they knew what’s happening, but suddenly Vanya and Klaus are there with them.

“Oh god,” he hears Klaus say.

“Five!” Vanya is next to them in a heartbeat, her knees slamming hard against the ground. Five must really be in pain, because he flails a hand about until Vanya takes it in her own, squeezing hard. At least someone can do that for him. “You’re gonna be okay, Five. You’re gonna be fine.”

Diego nods. “For once,” he grumbles, “I agree with Vanya.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Five mumbles. He’s starting to really struggle to keep his eyes open, and sounds more and more tired and delirious each time he speaks. 

“Hey, eyes up, kid. Keep ‘em… keep ‘em open. Come on, t-tell Vanya all about your nerd… about your nerd sh-shit.”

Klaus is pacing, tearing at his hair, and eventually he makes his way hesitantly to Five’s side as well, kneeling at his head to cradle it in his lap. He looks pale and terrified, and it doesn’t take Diego long to figure out why this is hitting so hard.

Diego is thrown back suddenly to Ben’s death. It’s too similar. Klaus… Klaus sat just like that, holding Ben just like he’s holding Five now. Diego had been in Vanya’s place, squeezing his hand as hard as possible, wishing he could tether his brother to the living world, and he knows Allison was doing the same on the other side. And Luther… Luther was where Diego is now, trying to hold their brother’s guts inside of him. They’ve been here before.

He’s going to watch another brother bleed out—and this time it’ll be his fault.

It’s not violent powers gone out of control or a mission gone wrong, it’s  _ Diego, _ who was stupid enough to leave himself vulnerable. It’s Diego’s failure and no one else’s. He can’t blame Dad this time, or Luther. Hell, he can’t even blame Five. It’s Diego’s job to protect Five, not the other way around, and he let him down.

And now Five is dying. Just like Ben.

He can’t do it again. He can’t lose another brother.

“Goddamnit, Five! Do what I f-fucking tell you to do!”

“Can’t think of anything,” Five mumbles. “B’cause ‘m not a nerd.”

“Digits of pi,” Klaus suggests. “Come on, Fivey, let’s hear it.”

Five makes a small noise. “Three point o-one four one f-five nine…”

“One five nine…” Vanya prompts.

“This is stupid,” Five says, squeezing his eyes shut.

“You don’t know any more?” Klaus asks. “Five, this is your thing!”

“Something else then,” Vanya urges. “Talk about something else.”

“Tell them about that puppy we saw in the park,” Klaus says. “Yeah?”

Five frowns, face scrunched up in a combination of concentration and pain. “It was… small.”

“It sure was.”

“Do you remember what type of dog it was?” Vanya asks.

“Small,” Five reiterates.

Despite the situation, Klaus snorts in amusement. “No, what breed.”

“Oh. Small… poodle. Baby poodle.”

“Close enough.”

“His name was Benedict,” Five mumbles. “I’m really tired. Haven’t been… sleeping well.”

“Nope!” Klaus says. “It’s not nap time!”

Five’s brow creases in confusion. “But… said you wanted me… sleep more.”

“Now is not the time to be cheeky,” Diego hisses. “I’m fucking p-pissed at… at you.”

“Sorry,” Five whispers, and Diego startles. Five shouldn’t be apologizing. Well, maybe he should be, but it’s incredibly out of character. Five doesn’t apologize. He’s far too stubborn, too arrogant, too sure that what he’s doing is the right move. Even if Diego absolutely hates the fact that Five got shot for him, he’d never expect an apology. Five is slipping. He probably doesn’t even know what he’s apologizing for, just knows that Diego’s mad and upset, and in his current state, he just does the first thing he can think of to fix things. It's fucking terrifying.

Five whines when Diego shifts slightly, and Klaus cards a comforting hand through his hair. It’s a mistake, Diego realizes too late, when Five relaxes into the gesture. Their little brother is defensive and closed-off and more than likely slightly touch starved. And here Klaus is, acting like Mom lulling them back to sleep after a nightmare.

Five’s eyes flutter closed, and this time they don’t open back up, no matter how much they beg him. 

“Five, I will give you all the money in Diego’s wallet if you open your eyes right now,” Klaus says, shaking him slightly. Five chooses to let Diego keep his $4.58.

“Five!” Diego punches the floor beside him, barely feeling the pain that reverberates up his arm, only distantly aware of the way it makes his teeth rattle.

“Hey.” Luther comes rushing back into the room. He kneels beside Klaus, who’s patting at Five’s cheeks with increasing panic. “Allison’s getting Mom. We’re gonna take him to the infirmary and they’ll meet us there.”

“Is he gonna die?” Vanya asks, looking around, expression terrified.

“No,” Luther says, gathering Five in his arms. “We’ll fix him up. It’s fine.”

( _ It’s fine, _ Luther had said, over and over, pressing down harder and harder on Ben’s shredded stomach.  _ It’s fine! He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. Everything’s gonna be okay. It’s fine. _ Ben hadn’t even made it to the car.)

Diego hates letting Five out of arm’s reach, but he knows he has to.  _ Five will be fine with Luther, _ he tells himself.  _ Luther won’t let anything happen to him. Luther also doesn’t want to lose another brother.  _ Five just looks so tiny in Luther’s giant arms, and Diego’s stomach churns every time his head lolls uselessly against Luther’s chest. Vanya makes a pitiful noise, and Klaus grabs her hand to comfort her. 

Luther wastes no time, all but sprinting to the infirmary, Vanya and Klaus right behind him. Diego follows as well, but he feels numb and like he’s running in a dream, his legs won’t quite work right.

Luther lays Five down on the table, letting Diego get back in to continue to apply pressure to the wound—Luther’s strength is too much to do it himself.

Allison runs in, Mom right beside her, and finally Diego lets himself breathe a sigh of relief.

But then Mom stops just a few feet away, and she’s still smiling. Her head tilts just slightly to the side and she seems to freeze, just for a second before looking around at them.

“You all seem upset,” she says. She even looks right at Five on the table, his blood on Luther’s clothes, Diego’s hands, but doesn’t move towards him. “I’ll make cookies.”

“No, Mom—” Allison tries, reaching out for her, but she’s already gone, humming as she heads towards the kitchen.

“What’s wrong with her?” Vanya asks, panicky and desperate.

“F-fuck.” Diego bows his head. Shit. 

“We have to do something,” Luther says. He’s hovering at Diego’s side, hands twitching like he wants to do something but has no idea how to help. 

“I’m gonna go find Pogo,” Allison says. She takes off running, but not before shooting one last worried glance at Five.

They all know first aid, but they aren’t prepared for this. This is Mom’s area of expertise, and there’s something wrong with her. The rest of them are virtually in the dark. They don’t know how to administer pain meds, unless Five plans to miraculously wake up enough for Diego to throw a handful of Ibuprofen in his general direction. Somehow, he thinks that’s unlikely.

“Oh dear,” Pogo says, grimacing when he lays his eyes on the sight. “You’ve done well so far, Master Diego, but we’ll need to get the bullet out and stitch him up.”

Diego nods numbly, but he knows better than to let go just yet. 

“I’m not nearly on the same level as your mother, but I know enough to be able to help him. I will need an assist, though. Master Klaus, Miss Allison, I believe you two are our best options.” Klaus has the most first aid training out of all of them, and Allison is currently much more steady than Diego, the only other one with experience and normal-sized hands. Pogo locks eyes with him for just a moment, and he realizes that he must look a mess. 

So much of a mess that although Klaus hurries to follow Pogo’s instructions, Allison turns to him with all her maternal gentleness, as if he’s a weakling who needs to be mothered right now, and by his sister of all people. He bristles under her sympathetic gaze.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Allison says to him softly. “We’ll make sure. Just be patient.”

She sets a hand on his arm and suddenly he realizes he’s shaking. He jerks back away from her, as if her touch burns. It kind of does. 

He has to be okay. If something happens to Five, Diego won’t be able to forgive himself.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna go w-w-wash my h-hands.” And change his clothes, and then burn them—there’s too much blood on them to wash out. God, Five is tiny. How does he have this much blood in his body?

Allison nods weakly. “But you know that right? That he’s gonna be okay?”

“We don’t kn-know that, Allison,” he snaps. “D-don’t be naive.” He shoulders past her on purpose, feeling a twisted sort of satisfaction when she stumbles. 

Luther catches Allison on his way out. Diego can’t help but listen in as he murmurs to her, “Stay with him, okay? Don’t leave him alone. Don’t… don’t let him wake up alone.”

“Of course.” Allison nods, setting a gentle hand on his shoulder. She looks a little confused by the request, but agrees to it immediately. “I won’t let anything happen to him.”

Luther’s nod is shaky. “Thank you.”

 

“ _ He’s gonna be okay, _ ” Diego mocks, scrubbing relentlessly at his hands in the sink. the blood is gone, but he can still _feel_ it there, thick and tacky and disgusting. Vanya is leaning back against the fridge, her head tipped back and her eyes closed, while Luther sits at the table, staring at the completely full plate of cookies that Mom set out for them. “She has no idea what she’s talking about. This is the real world, not make-believe land. We’re not in one of her shitty movies.”

“Really?” Vanya snaps. Her eyes are red-rimmed and she hugs herself with shaking arms. “You’re gonna be a jerk when Five is fucking dying?”

“He is not dying! He’s going to be fine, and then I’m going to kill him myself!” 

“Diego, calm down,” Luther says. “You’re not helping anyone.” 

“You’re not helping anyone! Where were you, huh? Why weren’t you there when he got shot?”

“I was looking for—It doesn’t matter! What were  _ you _ doing, Diego? You were right there!”

Vanya looks frantically at the building argument. “Wait—”

Diego plows through, not caring one bit about Vanya’s opinion on the subject. “If you had seen that guy, Five wouldn’t have had to jump! He would be o-okay right now!”

“You didn’t see him either, Diego. You can’t blame this on me.” Luther stands up from the table and walks away without another word. Diego’s anger starts to fall away rapidly, guilt quickly taking its place.

“You did good, you know,” Vanya says. “You kept him alive until Pogo could get there. You shouldn’t feel bad.”

“He shouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place.”

“We tried to get him to come with us, I swear,” Vanya says quickly. “He just jumped away.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Diego snaps. “I wasn’t blaming you, Vanya. I wasn’t fucking attacking you.”

“I’m sorry. I just—”

“He jumped in front of that bullet for  _ me. _ It was supposed to hit  _ me. _ ”

“So he saved you. That’s kind of what he does. It’s not your—”

“You’re not gonna be able to make me feel better about the fact that our baby brother had to take a bullet for me.”

“It’s not your fault. He didn’t have to do that,” Vanya says quietly. “He chose to.”

“He shouldn’t have.”

She purses her lips. “Look, you just have to accept that he loves you and he wants to protect you, that he loves you and he wants to protect you just as much as you want to protect him.”

She says it so simply, with a confidence that his quietest sister so rarely has. She’s always been on the sidelines, seeing things none of the rest of them see. He’s ashamed at the thought, but when they were younger, Diego hadn’t been sure if Five was even fully capable of loving them or not. He’d just been so damn _ arrogant. _ God, how messed up were they? Has he ever told any one of his siblings that he loves them? Have any of them? 

Maybe Vanya has. She was already so low down on the hierarchy—how much farther could she possibly have had to fall? 

But did anyone say it back to her? Did Five?

Of course he didn’t. Five is way too smart for that, too calculating. 

But Five rarely uses his words to say what he means. Five  _ shows _ his love instead, even if he tries to keep it a secret. Now that he’s aware of it, Diego can see plainly all the ways Five actually  _ tried. _ Come to think of it, they all do that—show what they can’t say. Allison checking in on them, Luther doing his best to protect them in a fight, all of Five’s ridiculous schemes. 

But showing it isn’t the same thing as saying it, and Diego’s never said it. Not once. He’s thought it plenty, but he could never get the words to come out, even if he wanted to. Ben died right in front of him and Diego couldn’t say it. And he learned nothing from it—Five just almost died, almost died for  _ him, _ and Diego still wouldn’t be able to say those damn words. 

And if Vanya can say it, well that just drives home how drastically different their childhoods were. Once again, Diego finds himself jealous of her. She didn’t have to train, she didn’t have to go on missions, Dad ignored her for the most part, she had some freedom, as warped as it is.

How could she have wanted to be like them? Why would she ever want to be like Diego—jealous of a brother for having a position he  _ knows _ is empty but unable to stop resenting him for it, angry  _ all the time _ and unsure of how to really be anything else despite being so, so tired of it, unable to express any of his positive emotions. Why would anyone want that?

“I’m sorry I kinda freaked out earlier,” Vanya says, her voice soft. “I guess I’m not used to this stuff.”

“Why would I be used to this, Vanya?” he snaps. "You don't get used to your brothers fucking dying." Even if this is the second time.

“I don’t know. I… I was just remembering when… when Ben…” Vanya clears her throat. “When Ben died. You guys had to come home and tell me. I wasn’t there. And I—I know it’s ridiculous, because I’m not like you guys, but I always felt like I should have been there.”

Anger swells back up in his chest. “You didn’t want to see that, Vanya.” 

“Well, I know that now. I just always thought that I should have at least gotten the chance to say goodbye, but clearly I don’t do well in a crisis. I would have just made things worse.”

He sighs. “Look, Vanya, I’m not gonna say you didn’t deserve the chance to say goodbye to Ben. But it was bad. Honestly? It was the worst moment of my life. I was right there. I was holding his hand. And you know what? I still felt completely helpless. I was jealous of Luther, because he was actually doing something, trying to stop the bleeding. Turns out,” he lets out an empty chuckle, “that sucks too.”

“Yeah,” she says. “I grew up wanting nothing more than to be a part of everything, but after today that dream is slowly dwindling.”

“I never understood why you wanted to be like us.”

“Are you kidding? You were famous. You were heroes. I was—I  _ am _ nothing. A nobody. I never felt like I was part of the family. You all had this experience that I could never share.”

“That experience sucked.”

She shrugs. “But I still wanted to be a part of it. It sucks, being the only one left out, all the time.”

“I can’t imagine.” He can’t. He has no idea what it would be like to grow up normal, to not feel like he’s constantly fighting against everything.

“Well, I guess I didn’t do a very good job of imagining what it would be like to be a real member of the Academy. I always pictured a lot more glory, and a lot less blood on my hands.”

“Sorry you felt left out, but your book was fucking shitty,” he blurts out.

Vanya surprises him completely by nodding. “Yeah. It was. That’s kind of the point. I did feel a little bad about it later though.”

“You should feel bad,” he snaps. “You should have talked to us. You didn’t have to write all that shit, Vanya. Millions of people read that, Vanya. Do you have any idea what that did to us? I was in the police academy. I—I had  _ friends, _ sort of. Maybe. They read that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not good enough.”

“I can’t go back and unwrite the book, Diego.”

“You shouldn’t have fucking written it in the first place!”

“I was mad!” she hisses, not screaming like him, but angry just the same. “I still am. We’re here and we’re acting like a big happy family for Five and it just makes me so mad. I could have had this all along.”

“It was never like this! Vanya, no one in this family is loving or understanding or considerate. We’re ruthless and cutthroat and we always have been! We’re like this now because Dad’s dead. I can guarantee, if he were still here, it wouldn’t be like this.”

“I just thought—”

“That’s what you don’t get. It wasn’t  _ ‘the family and Vanya,’ _ it was just the seven of us, fighting for our lives, all the time. It’s not our fault you don’t have powers, and it’s not our fault Dad didn’t give a single shit about you because of it. We were just doing what we had to do to survive. And you act like that makes us bad people.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about the book.” She chews her lip, looking at the wall instead of at him. “I’m still mad though. But… I guess the main person I should be mad at is Dad.”

“I’m still mad too,” he says, “but I guess we can agree on that much.”

“Whew, it’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like that!” They turn, watching Klaus stride into the room. He looks—and sounds—a bit shaky, but he’s smiling, and that has to be a good sign.

“Well?” Diego prompts when Klaus makes no move to share any news.

Klaus gulps down an entire large glass of apple juice and slams it down on the counter, sighing loudly and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Well, after a long, arduous journey, filled with many trials and tribulations, I, the great hero that I am—”

“Klaus!”

“Fine, fine. Bullet’s out, everything’s all stitched up. Kid’s still asleep, though. Not sure when he’ll wake up.”

“But he  _ is _ gonna wake up, right?” Vanya asks.

“Sure. It’s Five. Little bastard’s too stubborn to die, right?”

Allison walks in, her hair tied back and a fresh bandage on her forehead. “Pogo says he’s gonna be fine. Just thought I’d let you know, since I don’t think Klaus actually heard him say it.”

“I was celebrating the heroic role I played in Five not being dead,” Klaus mumbles dejectedly. 

“He’s also going to take a look at Mom’s programming, since there’s obviously something wrong with her. This would have been a whole lot easier with her. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I feel like I really, really need to call my daughter.”

He nods absently, watching her go. Klaus mumbles something to no one before leaving as well, leaving Vanya and Diego alone once again.

“Are we gonna be okay?” Vanya asks after a long moment of silence, her voice small.

Diego sighs. “Probably. If I can find a way to forgive Klaus for tye dying all my shirts, I can probably find some way to forgive you too. You’re still my sister.”

“Thanks,” she whispers. “I—I’m sorry.”

“Alright, stop saying it.”

“Sorry. I mean—I’m not… I’m sorry. I’m just gonna… go check on Five.”

He nods, but doesn’t follow after her. He’s too riled up to go sit around while Five gets his beauty sleep and Vanya sniffles in the corner, not when he has better things to do, like figure out who the hell decided to attack his home.

 

* * *

 

_ Update: _

_ Concerns event: Apocalypse _

 

_ What did I say?  _

_ At this point, Vanya Hargreeves is not yet aware of her gifts. She is still unknowingly suppressing them with medication. If Number Five were to die now, in this way, then there is a chance that she may not even end the world at all, and we simply cannot have that. _

_ Thankfully, our calculations have shown that he is likely to pull through. If for some reason he does not… _

_ Well, let’s just say that I would not want to be in your shoes.  _

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment and help fuel my creativity!!!


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